A girl called Rachel -
The Rachel Papers
I had always loved the name Rachel and I can only guess that it harped back to my first crush on a girl at Mary mount Convent in Wallasey called, you've guessed it, Rachel (Kerr). When I was 19 Mike Flynn introduced me to the Martin Amis book The Rachel papers, which I read and loved. I eventually saw the film and still have the video. I also became obsessed with one of the soundtracks which I eventually tracked down to be by Willy De Ville called obsession for love to which the hero of the story finally made mad passionate love to.
I was starting to regard James as one of my closest friends, we shared the same taste in music and clothes but he was far more confident than me both with women and his whole attitude to life. I desperately wanted to be more like him and would thus imitate his style, swagger and sayings in an attempt to become more popular.
On many Sundays James used to drive home to Freckleton to see his Mum for lunch and on occasions David and I would be invited along as well. We had to be on our best behavior and were told by James before we went to ensure that you "Don't make a cunt of the bogs" as James' mum was a stickler for a tidy toilet.
We would enjoy a traditional roast dinner with James' Gran regaling us with stories of the old days and her various dalliances with the GI's that used to be positioned in Blackpool during the war.
We would be sent home with 3 or 4 Bakewell tarts, which David would proceed to gorge as soon as we got back to the flat.
One day on our way to Freck for lunch James casually announced that his sister Rachel was going to be there. I nearly choked on my breath. I had no idea that he had a sister and was it fate that she was called Rachel. What was I wearing, how was my hair, how were my spots, did I look cool, how could I hide my inhaler. James was carrying on talking regardless but I was lost in a picture of how old she was, if she looked attractive (she was bound to) would she be trendy (she was bound to), would she like Simple Minds (she was bound to), would she be smaller than me (she was bound to), would she find it within the realms of possibility to like me (she was bound to), or (she was bound not to).
When we arrived at the house I was little short of a gibbering wreck but I managed to control myself with 3 or 4 puffs of ventolin.
She had not arrived and so I had time to nip into the bogs (without making a cunt of them) to give myself the once over in the mirror.
As the doorbell rung I was washing my hands and frantically turned off the tap – the wrong way thus looking as if I had pissed myself as I greeted her.
She was fabulous. Mark Chadwick once said that when he saw Rachel for the first time he actually thought it was Jimmy in drag.
She was the spitting image of James but had a long flowing dress and a gorgeous mouth that was superbly smeared with bright read lipstick and she had a wonderful laugh. God I so wanted her to be my girlfriend. We talked about music and she shared my taste for U2 Simple Minds and other bands of the genre. She had been to many gigs and I though I had died and gone to heaven. I had to have her, I just had to, but how?
Obviously most men would just calmly get her number and ask her out but no not me.
We departed from our lunch and I said a pleasant goodbye and that was that.
All the way back to Blackpool I tried to picture me as her boyfriend going to gigs and bars together. Every time I looked at James I was reminded what she looked like which I found rather unnerving. Should I look away or do I start to have erotic thoughts through looking at Jimmy.
This was no good and I had to do something. The opportunity came along some 6 weeks later when James mentioned that Rachel was going to call in for tea with us.
Considering we were students our teas were quite extravagant affairs, we made a pact from day one that we would each put £1 into the kitty for a daily tea. The trouble was we were all so concerned that we would get ripped off that we insisted on spending the whole £4 every night. Each evening when college had finished we would go to the butcher to get some fresh meat (I'm sure he used to see us coming because he would welcome us with open arms and have a good laugh with us. He would ask what cut of meat we wanted from the window and would then go to the back of the shop to cut it and prepare it for us before putting it into plastic bags and bringing it back out to us, the problem was that when we got it home to cook the succulent chicken that we had seen him take away to the back to prepare in no way resembled the scrawny cut of meat lying meekly in front of us.)
We would go from the butchers across the road to the green grocers and finally buy a loaf of bread before James or Mark prepared dinner.
On the night in question I made some effort to try and tidy the flat in advance of Rachel's arrival. Mick Worthington who used to use the flat as his second home was also there and so the scene was set.
I spent ages getting ready and desperately trying to remain calm and in control of my trembling emotions. How should I look at this moment of truth?
Should I be smart, should I be a little bit casual, should I go for the I don't care look or should I just wear what I would normally wear on a Wednesday night (i.e. a white shirt, thin blue tie in the mode of David Sylvian and some jeans). I spent an age combing my hair until it was just right and with a quick puff on my inhaler and my trump card in my jacket pocket I was all set for Rachel's arrival.
She arrived just after six and she looked as fantastic as when I last saw her with her trademark spiky hair and her ravenous red lipstick. Of course to the other lads she was just James' sister coming around for some tea but for me she just could be the girlfriend that I had always aspired to but had never really had.
I placed myself opposite her and as the pork chops and mash was served up I had to pick my moment to go in for the kill. I decided it was when she had her mouth full of sprouts that the time had come – I could finish what I had to say without her interrupting – and there was a sudden lull in conversation.
"Rachel, err, I was err, wondering, you know, how you said that you liked Simple Minds and err, U2, well, err, (I produced some tickets from my inside jacket pocket, elbowing David in the process) I err, wondered if you'd like to, err, go and see them in Manchester with me as they're both playing soon.
There was an embarrassing silence, as all the lads simply didn't know where to look. I had asked her out but not in the seclusion of a phone call or a quiet one to one but with all of them in touching distance at the dinner table.
Mike eventually broke the silence, err nice pork chief, he weakly mumbled.
I think I've left something in my room James' said running out in order to prevent his mouth from exploding in embarrassed laughter.
Rachel maintained her calm and looking me straight in the eyes said "Yes, that would be great"
INSERT – SIMPLE MINDS & U2 TICKETS
And so it was that I embarked on a series of dates with the wonderful Rachel.
I liked to call them dates but Rachel just saw me as a partner to go to gigs with.
I was so desperate for her to show me some real affection, a hug a prolonged kiss. (I got just one but she regarded me as a friend not a boyfriend).
The Simple minds gig was great, as much for the fact that Rachel was with me, rather than just for Jim Kerr in outstandingly good form. Simple Minds had just released their spectacular album New Gold Dream, which totally captured my mood at the time with some classic dance tunes.
I vividly remember a pompous review of the album, which I replied to in the NME that prompted my second copy in the paper.
God, wasn't I becoming trendy and satirical all at the same time?
INSERT – 2ND SMUG NME LETTER
For a while I became known as Jim Err Kerr (about half a day to be precise).
The U2 gig the following Thursday was even better featuring The Alarm of 68 Guns fame.
I remember Bono with his white flag waving away during Sunday Bloody Sunday and the fact that I was able to impress (so I thought) Rachel with my tales of my previous encounter with U2.
Shortly after the U2 gig Rachel actually moved to Sale, about 5 minutes from my parents house, and I was over the moon at having a (prospective) girlfriend on my doorstep. On the first day that she went to work I left a good luck card on her little yellow car that she parked at Brooklands station before going into town to work at the Nat West Bank.
Whenever I was home in Sale I would try and meet up with her.
My most embarrassing hour was when I sent her a valentine's card (not rescinded) with the envelope covered in ½ pence stamps to the value of a first class letter and in the shape of a heart (I was wasted wasn't I) with her name and address in the middle. It didn't really have the desired affect but I was as determined as ever and was not to be put off by Rachel's reluctance to commit herself to anything more than a polite shaking of the hands when we were together- I would ignore or dismiss these tell tale signs that I wasn't really getting anywhere.
We went to several gigs together at the Hacienda including, New Order who were superb but the venue was jam-packed and were supported by James. The Eurythmics who I remember only for the superb drummer (formerly of Blondie) who wore a suit throughout his performance. Big Country – I actually ripped the sleeves of one of my fathers lumberjack shirts in a vain attempt to look like one of the Glaswegian throng on the night. The Birthday Party – who were very scary supported by an even scarier Crown of Thorns who sounded like a slow and painful death. The Undertones who were magnificent and even when there was a mid set power cut were not put off but borrowed two torches and promptly did an audience included version of my perfect cousin. Orange Juice who were really wimpy, other than Rip it up, and were just dull and uninspiring.
All these gigs were more rewarding for having Rachel by my side and on occasions being able to squeeze her hand as the band came on.
My finest Rachel hour came the morning after we had both seen Echo & the Bunnymen at the Apollo on a Thursday night.
The Bunnymen were supported by a band from Liverpool called uniquely – Now is the time forget the whimpering child become the warrior – who got booed off stage and had a go at the fact that it was only 30 miles between Liverpool and Manchester but it seemed much further. The Bunnymen however were haunting from their entrance to the sound of chanting Monks to their fantastic Never stop and The Cutter. Real scallies on top form from beginning to the three encores they did.
I had the obligatory good night kiss from Rachel and we were due to meet up the next night and so I had a lie in at my parents in Sale and awoke to have breakfast in bed.
I read the sports pages and as I flicked through the TV section my eyes were immediately drawn to the list of acts on that nights Oxford Road Show. – (The Oxford Road Show was a pop programme/ fanzine that was on BBC2 just after The Tube finished on Channel 4 and was hosted by Peter Powell. The show featured many of my favourite bands and was often worth a watch – once The Tube had finished- The show was actually filmed at Oxford Road in Manchester) On tonight's show live from Manchester were Simple Minds.
Maybe, just maybe I could get tickets for Rachel and myself. I hurriedly got dressed and caught the train into town, the studio was a two-minute walk from Oxford Rd station. As I entered the reception area they were filming an interview with John Peel and the dreadful now is the time… Support act from the previous night.
The area was quiet due to the protruding microphone but I found myself a couple of feet away from the great man Peter Powell himself. Seeing me try and catch his eye he beckoned me over to him. I told him that my girlfriend and I were over from Blackpool and were mad keen on Simple Minds and wondered if there were any tickets available for the night. He informed me that the tickets would have been sold out ages ago but he would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list. He would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list.
He would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list.
He would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list.
He would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list.
I couldn't believe it, what a coup, Rachel would be so impressed. I almost floated on air as I went to tell her at work. She was surprised to see me when I rushed in to where she was sat behind the cash desk and I had to calm myself before telling her that, her that, her that, he would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list. WHO
He would put Rachel and myself on his special guest list. Peter, you know Peter err Peter from the show, the Oxford Road show, we were going to be on telly.
When I had managed to finally get the whole story out in a calm and orderly manner Rachel was as excited as me. We were going to go to the Hacienda that night just to dance but she was going to go home first. She now wouldn't have time and so she gave me precise instructions to go back to her house and get the following clothes.
I am not at all obsessed about Girls at all but I still have the slip of paper with me today, you may note that it is on the back of a Nat west Change slip.
INSERT – NOTW FROM RACHEL INFORMING ME OF WHERE HER TROUSERS WERE.
I had the keys to her house and much as I was tempted to rifle through her knickers draw I stayed loyal to my task and got hold of the desired list.
We had tea at the Dutch Pancake house (just like eating the soggiest of Pizzas, although my mind was more on Rachel than what I was putting in my mouth) before heading up to the studios.
As we approached we could view a sea of long black coats in the queue that had formed of the crowd waiting to be allowed in. there is something quite superb in the ability to go right up to the front of the queue and state (fairly loudly to the commissionaire, so the first dozen in the queue can hear you) that I think you'll find us on Peters personal guest list.
As we were taken backstage to a holding area before the crowd were let in we met up with Peter who had come to check that we had got in ok.
We briefly saw Simple Minds walk past and I tried to have a laugh with Charlie Burchill asking him to pose for a quick picture.
Simple Minds opened and closed the show starting with I travel and finishing with New Gold Dream. We were right next to them and Rachel's mum spotted her several times on the TV. We also saw Marillion complete their first performance on TV with Fish in all his make up and pomp. I remember violently applauding him at the end of his song in a vain show of sympathy and he looked me straight in the eyes and bowed his head.
On the way out we waited outside for 10 – 15 minutes for Simple Minds to appear. Rachel saw Jim Kerr and in the middle of the crowd quickly asked him if he would pose for a quick photo.
I had rushed around to the far side and had lost him but at the moment when he asked, "Where's the Camera?" I was there to snap Rachel and Jim in all their glory, two of my favourite people on one photo.
Having obtained the prize snap the evening went rapidly down hill with Rachel and I running out of things to say even before we had reached The Hacienda and we danced for a while and then got a taxi home without so much as a peck on the cheek.
We went to one more concert together (but this time with James as well to see the much-loved Manchester band The Durrutti Column with Vinni Reilly. I had seen them previously with Tony at the same club and they appeared to do the same set with the affable Toby (shaped like said Toby jug) on drums.
On the night with Rachel she spent the evening trying to chat up the guy on the door. She went over to him and pretended to ask for the poster of the band on the door. When she came back I asked her where she had been and she told me of her vain attempt to get the poster. I went off to impress her and came back with the poster for her, which just pissed her off even more as she had less of an excuse to go over and see the guy again.
The concert dragged on as I realized that Rachel was never going to be mine.
I had chased and chased and tried and tried but it was sadly not to be.
David used to ask how I got on when she had dropped me off in her car and I used to reply …really well, in fact last time she slowed down into second gear before she threw me out.
Too often this was closer to the truth than you might think, as she would drop me off and drive away before I had puckered up my lips in an offer of a kiss.
posted by POL Northern England Update @ 12:52 PM
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