Recently by AaronMcMullan

There used to be a tiny record shop about half a pint’s walk from the Clyde Tavern in Coleraine, Co. Londonderry, just across the road from the railway station, not far at all from the place where you used to be able to buy snake-in-a-bap, if a certain Andy Mooney was to believed (and he was not). For a period of about four or five months shortly after I turned eighteen I’d be stood in that record shop every other Thursday, one arm held out afore me with a fistful of Jobseekers Allowance burning at the end, the other hand