Going to a disco above Muckle's builder's yard in a Fred Perry shirt and burgundy stay-press pants, loaded on cola bottles and trying to get the DJ Bootsy to play The Jam, while avoiding the older lads as they went mental lowping about to Nellie the
Elephant and Madness.
Trying to keep away from the skinheads at the Pencils in Old Eldon Square on bus trips to Newcastle on a Saturday. Looking on in wonderment at the punks with their spiky green hair and braces.
Watching Quadrophenia for the umpteenth time, thinking that Jimmy was so cool and hoping that you'd get a girlfriend as gorgeous as Leslie Ash's Steph character.
Dreaming of riding around Coquetdale on a Lambretta scooter with a fox tail hanging off the back aerial. Blasting your dad's old Who records at night in bed with large headphones on.
Of course, the Kid and me got into trouble at school for wearing parkas with large Union Jack flags stitched on the back as they thought it was a National Front symbol
And when our English teacher told us to write out the lyrics to a couple of songs for homework, I penned down I'm a Boy and 5.15 by The Who. I liked the lyrics "My name is Bill and I'm a headcase" and "Out of my brain on the train."
I hadn't really comprehended that I'm a Boy was about a lad whose mam dressed him up as a little girl and 5.15 was about being stoned on British Rail.
The teacher eyed me suspiciously.
By the time we were at raves at the end of the decade we had a youth culture of our own. But we were still Mods – the rave scene was really just an updated Quadrophenia with techno, while we regarded the lads in denim jackets who liked heavy metal as dinosaurs.
Either way, blood flows and now I feel like the bell boy. Sensible (ish) and settled down. Rebellion is a young man's game. Pete Townshend couldn't have written My Generation in his 30s and he would have felt daft doing his trademark windmill guitar playing. As for smashing up the kit – think of the cost!
Mind, I wouldn't mind braying a guitar repeatedly off the floor until it splintered and stabbing an amp with the shattered neck. And I could still flash a sly V-sign at a teacher.
