Angel’s Harp, across the road from me; like an Oasis in the desert of liars and cheats: pimps, and pushers.
I heard the sound of the Specials singing 'Ghost Town'. The haunting Two-Tone beat pulsated through the windows, and the half open door. I hoped it was not an omen, a harbinger of doom; greeting me on my return from hell's country.
I was about to return to a world I thought I had left behind. Fifteen years ago, I stood in this exact spot, waiting for a Taxi to take me away from the world of ‘Chaps and their hard faced Molls’. A world ruled by respect, which
Click Follow to receive emails when this author adds content on Bublish