Pome: A Security Guard Name Of Paul

In an outlet in London copious suns before

---

Corfu, baby. Pic: Rochelle Byron

---

A Security Guard Name Of Paul

worked in a clothes store name of Bankrupt Clothing on Oxford Street in London the mid90s and to some he was not Einstein or Paradise, a boor, even, maybe, but to me with his clear skin and prematureaged gray hair and vacant eyes he was a dude who’d found a welcome place, friends, some permanence, a break from ‘life’ where he could joke and moan and eat lunch and nab the odd shopthief (his return rate was sans prolific) and go home to Mile End in the East End and drink pints in the local juicer and go to bed and rise the next day and do it all again

— for however long it lasted

and when i told him i hitchhiked to Glasto the summer of 95 and enjoyed being on the road, the adventure of it all (what else is there???) what caught his imagination was not me going into the festival UNDER the fence, as i told him too, but those 3 words:::

‘on the road’