Contributor: Paul Tristram
- -
I was living in a greasy 3 storey block of bedsits, on the middle floor facing the backyard, behind the Old Swansea Crown Courts, with its giant white clock pillar reaching up into the sky, a practical monument placed absurdly upon a building known for stopping time.
I had no watch or clock so when in view it was the only time I knew what time it was,
I would run down the stairs, open the front door just to see if it was pub o’clock yet? (The bars still shut between 3 and 7pm back then)
They had sent me down at age 17 in that Crown Court, to the hardest Borstal in Britain, on the desolate grey, cold island of Portland off the Southern coast of England, so living directly opposite was a constant reminder and didn’t help my moods much and they were of a dark, neurotic persuasion without the need of influence.
To...

0 Comments
Author:
Paul Tristram