Saturday nights, Durham University, Students’ Union building. If ever there was a better image of Hope outdoing Expectation Caravaggio would have painted it.
The disco would have started around 8 o’clock. Scarcely anyone on the dance floor. By 10 it was populated by bunches of 3 or 4 girls jigging round their handbags. We boys would stand on the sidelines talking big and clutching bottles of Nukey Broon.
By 11 the floor would have filled with several of these clusters of girls and we boys would still be stood, trying to look cool like timid peacocks. In fairness one or two of the more confident lads would have joined groups of the fit bints and were evidently doing quite well.
The tradition at Durham in those years was that the last record played was always Hey Jude, a curious choice because you could neither bop nor smooch to it. And smooching was getting increasingly urgent in the minds of we peacocks.
Now, a characteristic of Hey Jude is that it is over 7 minutes long with the last 4 minutes being a repetitive litany of “Na Na Na” etc. And that was the cue for action. When I say “action” I mean a couple of us would push each other forwards towards the dance floor.
Usually by now most of the available girls were the Theology students, recognised by their button-to-the-neck cardies – an unmistakeable warning that “All is safely gathered in”. And even they were always a bit too picky for my liking.
Drunkenness, Rejection, Humiliation. Another Saturday night, Durham University Students’ Union building.
