Old docs rock

The sound of the hairdryer blasted above the tape machine. I gagged on hairspray, and my hands were tacky with hair gel—having “big hair” was high maintenance. Rain was an ever present danger. These were the days when the hardest boys in school wore make up and tucked pink Pringle jumpers into their stretch jeans, and no one sniggered. This was the briefest period of our lives and yet the most vivid: youth. But the idiotic dreams of youth are soon …