I used to spend a lot of time walking to school and waving to my classmates as they waved from their parents cars, beating me into class. On the way I would make the decision to either cross the railway line or climb the muddy embankment to cross the bridge. I decided to alternate the route each day to keep things interesting. The railway always provided a sense of danger and a mild dose of corporate branding from the chugging British rail trains heading into Lime street Station in Liverpool. The railway line was always strewn with random objects like shoes, car wheels and lawn mowers.
One morning I crept over the fence and to my disgust, i trod on a pigs head, how it got there I will never know. The town had a reputation for pulverising dead animals in order to manufacture glue apparently. But i think the best leave behind was a copy of a Razzle porn magazine lying open in the rain. I flicked through it using a stick as I wasn’t’t sure who might of had it in their hands. But the women looked sexy and had that smouldering pout on their faces which i still liken to those in some of my favourite fashion Ads from the late 1970’s. Glamorous, unattainable and heavily coiffured.