I've been thinking about a Saturday morning disco I used to go to in the early Seventies, the Top Rank in Preston. I went with my mate Robin and we had an absolute ball there.
Togged up in tank tops, bennies, pink parallels and platforms, we headed off on the bus up town as eager as adventure scouts. Preston had a massive new space-age bus station back then so we will have got off there and walked to the Top Rank smack in the town centre near the huge public underground and manned bogs, which we avoided like the plague!
I remember it was dark inside the Top Rank apart from the disco lights and strobes and it was loud as anything with a mixture of northern soul and chart pop blaring out. One stand-out song that always played over and over was Get on the Right Track Baby, but I've no idea who sang it.
Robin and me danced to anything I think, as our main interest were the girls on the dance floor. With green and blue slushies as our drink of choice we would woo those Lancastrian maidens with our gymnastic rock'n'roll moves and witty northern banter!
I remember being able to dance like a teddyboy, lots of footwork and leaps. there was a move where you fell to the floor in a sort of push-up position and then somehow leapt backwards into a reverse crab, where you did more armwork from there. Crazy moves and a lot like the breakdancing that was to come from the States much later. I think what we did was a hangover from Fifties swing and rock'n'roll, pure and simple.
Only the soft songs made us slow right down with one of our 'birds', gently moving together as the first stirrings of intimacy made us giggle. Bums were clasped and bra-straps sought in the flashing dark of the dancefloor!
The desperate urge to down a slushie before self-combusting took us off the floor and made us sit at a table, sweat pouring onto our penny-rounds and our lungs heaving like hoover bags. We stared at the competition and the talent round the room and made knowing nods and winks to each other as we gathered our strength for another bop.
Ballroom Blitz, Tiger Feet, Doctor my Eyes, Blockbuster, Tears of a Clown and Crazy Horses and the like got us up again and before we knew it we were spinning round again like Catherine Wheels. God they were happy times in the teenage sweat and stink of the Top Rank.
Towards the end of our dancing days we took 'birds' back with us on the bus. Puberty was driving us now like remote controls and we were mad keen to snog and fumble for more than that. My Mum would only let us sit in the downstairs lounge, where she could keep an honest eye on us but Robin's aunt let us go upstairs in her big old place!
Eventually the dancing stopped and sadly we no longer went to the Top Rank. Our time there was over, making way for the next generation.
As the Seventies waxed, the desire to listen to more cerebral noise like heavy rock took over and as our hair grew longer we slouched on bean bags with young female hippies in the darkness of mates' front rooms and big sheds.
Alas, we'd put our worn-down platform shoes away for good.
Does any of this ring a bell with you? Did you go to a disco readers?
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