Seedy Soho Nostalgia

My wife thought I made up hedge porn.

I can still remember the thrill of finding a serviceable, near intact stash of grot in a hedge. I imagine it's how the early californians felt when they struck a motherlode. I would deliver my own lode in private later. And yes, onto the pages.

 

One of my cleverest moments was realising that at the end of each week, the met shop by watford tube station would tie up all the out of date publications with string and leave them for collection. A quick flick through (a 13 year old recognised a Club spine over a Top Gear Magazine spine in seconds) and I could whip away 3 or 4 brand new nudie mags for my stash.

 

Wow the met shop. He would sell fags in 1s and 2s for small change to schoolboys in uniform.

To be smoked on the steps alongside The shop....

 

Loved the Met Shop Man. I was one of his favourites. I forgot his name now. He called me a 'lovely boy' because of all the cigs and porn I bought. Along with my happy shopper orange juice and bourbons

 

I used to rifle through the papers left outside the scout hut in croxley searching for page 3s, take them home and masturbate like a deranged chimp.

Probably the happiest days of my life.

 

Tom Walley walked out of the Station one day and caught me smoking. Grassed me to my dad and I had my hide tanned.