A cheery elfin-faced schoolboy snapped me out of my daze. ´´Like yer hair. Nice colour. It was yellow like straw. ´´
I smiled. "Nice shoes." His boat-sized blue brothel creepers swam on his feet.
"Im Jeremy"
'George"
"See yer around." He clomped down the stairs.
Weeks later I saw him on Charing Cross station. He was with two very cute boys, we didn't speak. he was being cool like his outfit, leather jacket, black jeans, winkle-picker boots and quiffed hair.
Then I saw him again outside the Marquee Club in Wardour Street, slurring drunk, wearing red wellington boots decorated with spider's webs and nayv blue school mac.
His hair was messy and punked out. We spoke briefly, then he disappeared ranting. It was inevitable that we could meet agian, either at a punk gig or on the train
Jeremy Healy lived in Kidbrooke, at the bottom of Shooters Hill, and attended St. Joseph's Academy in Blackheath where the Christian Brothers called him 'Satan's Imp" after he appeared at school with green hair.