But ..... What Happened Next
BUT..........WHAT HAPPENED NEXT
By the start of the following week, I had recovered enough to get myself re-employed as a teacher by Birmingham Education Committee and to feel well enough to go out with one of my friends from school to a dance at the Locarno Ballroom in the centre of Birmingham on the next Friday, nine days after arriving back.
In 1967, the Locarno Ballroom was Birmingham’s leading dancehall and Friday evening was the time to go. There was a multi-coloured revolving glitterball hanging from the ceiling and a stage which also revolved to take the resident band off half way through the evening and bring on the smaller rock ‘n roll group for the interval, both of them playing the same tune as the stage was turning. The dances started early, officially at eight o’clock, and were going strongly by quarter to nine. They finished before half past eleven, to allow people to catch the last daytime service bus from the city centre, before the much more expensive night time fares began, although you could stay later, if you wanted to, and dance to “records” played on a “record player”. There were no such things as “discos” in those days.
My friend, Terry, and I arrived about quarter past eight, neatly dressed in our best clothes, with hair carefully combed and, in my case, held in place by Trugel (it was less obvious than Brylcreem) and shoes polished. Any possible bad breath or the smell of a small amount of “Dutch courage” from the bar were kept in check by Amplex tablets and Polo mints. A last minute visit to the Gents to make sure you had actually got rid of that persistent blackhead and then to find a strategic spot which gave a good view of the girls along the edge of the dance floor and of the entrance to allow us to spot the newcomers.
About half an hour after Terry and I had arrived, three girls walked in together. After taking a good look at them, I said to Terry:
“Come on, let’s ask two of those girls for a dance.”
