The Soundtrack of Our Lives
A Double Album in Prose
by Annie Christie
Genre: Drama
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: For anyone who has ever got lost in music!
Swearwords: One strong one only.
Description: For anyone who has ever got lost in music!
Disc One
Side One
Lost in Music
We're lost in music
Caught in a trap
No turnin' back
We're lost in music (Sister Sledge)
Side One
Lost in Music
We're lost in music
Caught in a trap
No turnin' back
We're lost in music (Sister Sledge)
Track Four
It started with a kiss… (Hot Chocolate)
~ Rhapsody – part two, 1975 ~
It started with a kiss… (Hot Chocolate)
~ Rhapsody – part two, 1975 ~
It was common knowledge that Billy McGinley of 3s2 had got off with Rachel Shaw of 4s1 at the October school disco, as everyone who had been watching through the dim lights could attest. The school disco was dark, but not dark enough. There were many who weren’t holding each other that closely as the ‘slow’ songs, which signalled the end of the evening, and instead were looking out to see who was getting off with whom, in order that they’d be able to give them a slagging on Monday morning. They’d clocked Rachel ask Billy to dance. That in itself was enough. All eyes were out on stalks. And they weren’t disappointed. Billy rose to the challenge and for a good minute and a half the pair were locked together at the mouth during Hold Me Close.
For a while Billy and Rachel were bigger news, at least in the school playground, even than the charts. That is until Bohemian Rhapsody hit the scene. It took over everything. It was all anyone talked about. It was all anyone listened to. It turned the whole school week into a guerrilla war where the goal was to get out a tranny and try and find someone playing it on the radio.
‘What does it even mean?’ Scooby asked.
‘What does it matter what it means, it’s fucking excellent,’ came the reply from Stevie and that shut Scooby up. Temporarily. It was hard to shut Scooby up, as many teachers had discovered. He was like some kind of wee Ned version of Tigger. He could upset a classroom single-handedly and in 3S2 there were plenty of other willing participants in whatever disruption Scooby had planned. Although to suggest Scooby planned was wrong. He’d never had a plan in his life. Things just happened to Scooby. And they were the sort of things that usually landed him in detention. Or at least in the corridor. It was unusual for him to be inside the classroom looking out through the glass. Usually he was in the corridor, face pressed against it on the other side, pulling faces like a demented guppy and trying to distract the class even more, until he was dragged away by some teacher on corridor duty.
Jane and Laura, who had both been at the now famous, or perhaps infamous school disco where Billy and Rachel had got off together, wondered whether it had been a deliberate ploy. Did she know that Bohemian Rhapsody would pull focus and stop everyone talking about her? It was a question they hotly debated for the next fortnight.
‘How could she know? You can’t predict the charts.’
‘Ah, Rachel’s smart.’
‘Why did she ask him to dance?’
‘Maybe she just wanted to.’
‘But to ask him, herself, right out there. Her a fourth year? She must have known…’
‘Maybe she just fancied him.’
Under the force of the multitude of answerless questions they came to the conclusion that maybe she just didn’t care. Rachel was, as far as the teachers were concerned, a good student who played by the rules. But as far as her peers were concerned, well, they knew differently. And this just proved it.
Every girl in 3rd year, okay, not every girl, but all the ones who counted, fancied Billy McGinley. And every one of them knew they didn’t stand a chance. He’d held out for a long time. Was he holding out for Rachel? I considered myself lucky I was in the same Chemistry class. After all, I had no other interest in chemistry. But because Scooby had somehow wheedled his way into the same group, I sometimes got to sit next to Billy for practical experiments – Scooby was banned from doing them because of when he attached the Bunsen burner to the water tap and sprayed it all over the classroom including the teacher. So Scooby had to cede his place beside his pal and I got to sit next to him instead. Normally a girl sitting beside a boy would be a big deal, but in this instance everyone knew better than to question the diktats of the Chemistry teacher. He was not a man to be messed with.
Sitting next to a boy in class was one thing. But actually going out with a boy in the year below you – that was unprecedented. It just was not done for a fourth year girl to go out with a third year boy. Even if the temptation was great because the third year had boys in it and the fourth year was the last bastion of the girl’s only school system, even then, the accusation of being a baby snatcher was enough to keep them at a distance. Until November 1975. Until Rachel Shaw got off with Billy McGinley.
All that and Bohemian Rhapsody. It was too exciting.
The party was broken up by the Maths teacher entering the room. Stevie didn’t notice, having started on yet another falsetto version of his favourite part of his favourite song. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress anyone, not even Laura. It was just that he couldn’t help himself. The song had got hardwired into his head. Nothing else mattered to him in the whole wide world. ‘Nothing really matters to me,’ he belted out with feeling.
‘Sit down, you clown,’ the teacher said.
The kids began to head for their seats. Except Rachel.
‘Can we help you, Miss Shaw?’ the teacher asked, with barely disguised sarcasm – teachers didn’t need to disguise their sarcasm in those days, it was a prime tool in their armoury, second only in power to the belt.
Billy looked like he was going to land one on the teacher.
Rachel took her hand out of his – everyone else had been so absorbed by Bohemian Rhapsody they’d not noticed that – and smiled.
‘No thank you, sir, I know all about quadratic equations,’ she said. And left the room. The boys gazed wistfully after her. Then turned and looked enviously at Billy. He shrugged his shoulders.
‘What can you do?’ he said.
Lunchbreak was over.
At least that’s how Laura and I remembered it.
~ ~ ~
‘But that wasn’t the first time,’ I told Laura.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, Billy and Rachel,’ I continued.
We were sitting together planning the 2013 reunion and, as it always does when we get together, as it always did, the topic of conversation had wound its way round to Billy and Rachel.
‘No,’ I said, ‘did I never tell you about that time at the baths?’
‘What time?’ Laura replied .
~ ~ ~
It was 1972. A more innocent age. Pop was as sweet as could be while Donny Osmond took on David Cassidy in the affection of the nation’s girls. The New Seekers vied with 10CC, Elton John and Gilbert O’Sullivan. There wasn’t much music for boys – even the pirate-eyed Dr Hook was pretty naff and glam rock while trying to look hard was still a bit sissy. The Sweet, and even T Rex, were all somewhat tame compared to what was to come.
And then there was Little Jimmy Osmond. And this is where the story of Billy and Rachel really began. As far as I’m concerned, though I’m sure they would both deny it. But I was there. I saw it.
~ 1972 ~
It was a Saturday morning at the baths. We were in the queue waiting to get in for our lesson. I was in the same swimming class as Billy McGinley. This was before he was ‘the’ Billy McGinley. He hadn’t put on his growing spurt then, or had his haircut in tribute to Bowie, but somehow it turned out more like Rod Stewart’s. He was small and blonde and… some bigger kid further down the line was offering him a dare. A double dare. ‘Go on, wee man, I dare ye to.’ And Billy was always up for a dare. Especially when the prize was a finger of fudge and a tomato soup from the swimming pool vending machine. He broke from the line and began to parade up and down the vestibule in his best, unbroken cherubic voice. ‘I’ll be your long haired lover from Liverpool,’ he sang. The crowds went wild. We were all laughing so hard they called one of the pool attendants to shut us up. ‘And that’s when Rachel first noticed him,’ I told Laura. ‘How’d you know?’ she said. ‘It’s when you first noticed him maybe?’ ‘Rubbish, I’d seen him plenty in the playpark before then,’ I said, ‘and we were six lessons in, so of course I’d seen him. I was the first one to spot his…’ I stopped and laughed. Here we were two forty something women, discussing an eleven year old boy – a primary school kid – as if he were some kind of sex symbol - ‘potential.’ ‘Oh, aye, it was his potential that interested you,’ she quipped back. Followed by ‘beamer!’ We were right back at school. It doesn’t take much to take us there. ‘And he really did that?’ She couldn’t help but be amazed. Not just that I had seen him first, but perhaps that there was something about Billy McGinley that she didn’t know, that she hadn’t known all these years. My little secret.
Discography: Want to sing along? Here are some YouTube links – sorry about attendant ads – sure you can find these all on your streaming music delivery platform (if you have such a thing!):
Hot Chocolate – It started with a Kiss https://youtu.be/L3pf7o-9OOk
David Essex –Hold me Close https://youtu.be/9G2lqY3Nuk0
Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ
Jimmy Osmond – Long Haired Lover from Liverpool. https://youtu.be/YriPIujLtsA
For a while Billy and Rachel were bigger news, at least in the school playground, even than the charts. That is until Bohemian Rhapsody hit the scene. It took over everything. It was all anyone talked about. It was all anyone listened to. It turned the whole school week into a guerrilla war where the goal was to get out a tranny and try and find someone playing it on the radio.
‘What does it even mean?’ Scooby asked.
‘What does it matter what it means, it’s fucking excellent,’ came the reply from Stevie and that shut Scooby up. Temporarily. It was hard to shut Scooby up, as many teachers had discovered. He was like some kind of wee Ned version of Tigger. He could upset a classroom single-handedly and in 3S2 there were plenty of other willing participants in whatever disruption Scooby had planned. Although to suggest Scooby planned was wrong. He’d never had a plan in his life. Things just happened to Scooby. And they were the sort of things that usually landed him in detention. Or at least in the corridor. It was unusual for him to be inside the classroom looking out through the glass. Usually he was in the corridor, face pressed against it on the other side, pulling faces like a demented guppy and trying to distract the class even more, until he was dragged away by some teacher on corridor duty.
Jane and Laura, who had both been at the now famous, or perhaps infamous school disco where Billy and Rachel had got off together, wondered whether it had been a deliberate ploy. Did she know that Bohemian Rhapsody would pull focus and stop everyone talking about her? It was a question they hotly debated for the next fortnight.
‘How could she know? You can’t predict the charts.’
‘Ah, Rachel’s smart.’
‘Why did she ask him to dance?’
‘Maybe she just wanted to.’
‘But to ask him, herself, right out there. Her a fourth year? She must have known…’
‘Maybe she just fancied him.’
Under the force of the multitude of answerless questions they came to the conclusion that maybe she just didn’t care. Rachel was, as far as the teachers were concerned, a good student who played by the rules. But as far as her peers were concerned, well, they knew differently. And this just proved it.
Every girl in 3rd year, okay, not every girl, but all the ones who counted, fancied Billy McGinley. And every one of them knew they didn’t stand a chance. He’d held out for a long time. Was he holding out for Rachel? I considered myself lucky I was in the same Chemistry class. After all, I had no other interest in chemistry. But because Scooby had somehow wheedled his way into the same group, I sometimes got to sit next to Billy for practical experiments – Scooby was banned from doing them because of when he attached the Bunsen burner to the water tap and sprayed it all over the classroom including the teacher. So Scooby had to cede his place beside his pal and I got to sit next to him instead. Normally a girl sitting beside a boy would be a big deal, but in this instance everyone knew better than to question the diktats of the Chemistry teacher. He was not a man to be messed with.
Sitting next to a boy in class was one thing. But actually going out with a boy in the year below you – that was unprecedented. It just was not done for a fourth year girl to go out with a third year boy. Even if the temptation was great because the third year had boys in it and the fourth year was the last bastion of the girl’s only school system, even then, the accusation of being a baby snatcher was enough to keep them at a distance. Until November 1975. Until Rachel Shaw got off with Billy McGinley.
All that and Bohemian Rhapsody. It was too exciting.
The party was broken up by the Maths teacher entering the room. Stevie didn’t notice, having started on yet another falsetto version of his favourite part of his favourite song. It wasn’t that he was trying to impress anyone, not even Laura. It was just that he couldn’t help himself. The song had got hardwired into his head. Nothing else mattered to him in the whole wide world. ‘Nothing really matters to me,’ he belted out with feeling.
‘Sit down, you clown,’ the teacher said.
The kids began to head for their seats. Except Rachel.
‘Can we help you, Miss Shaw?’ the teacher asked, with barely disguised sarcasm – teachers didn’t need to disguise their sarcasm in those days, it was a prime tool in their armoury, second only in power to the belt.
Billy looked like he was going to land one on the teacher.
Rachel took her hand out of his – everyone else had been so absorbed by Bohemian Rhapsody they’d not noticed that – and smiled.
‘No thank you, sir, I know all about quadratic equations,’ she said. And left the room. The boys gazed wistfully after her. Then turned and looked enviously at Billy. He shrugged his shoulders.
‘What can you do?’ he said.
Lunchbreak was over.
At least that’s how Laura and I remembered it.
~ ~ ~
‘But that wasn’t the first time,’ I told Laura.
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, Billy and Rachel,’ I continued.
We were sitting together planning the 2013 reunion and, as it always does when we get together, as it always did, the topic of conversation had wound its way round to Billy and Rachel.
‘No,’ I said, ‘did I never tell you about that time at the baths?’
‘What time?’ Laura replied .
~ ~ ~
It was 1972. A more innocent age. Pop was as sweet as could be while Donny Osmond took on David Cassidy in the affection of the nation’s girls. The New Seekers vied with 10CC, Elton John and Gilbert O’Sullivan. There wasn’t much music for boys – even the pirate-eyed Dr Hook was pretty naff and glam rock while trying to look hard was still a bit sissy. The Sweet, and even T Rex, were all somewhat tame compared to what was to come.
And then there was Little Jimmy Osmond. And this is where the story of Billy and Rachel really began. As far as I’m concerned, though I’m sure they would both deny it. But I was there. I saw it.
~ 1972 ~
It was a Saturday morning at the baths. We were in the queue waiting to get in for our lesson. I was in the same swimming class as Billy McGinley. This was before he was ‘the’ Billy McGinley. He hadn’t put on his growing spurt then, or had his haircut in tribute to Bowie, but somehow it turned out more like Rod Stewart’s. He was small and blonde and… some bigger kid further down the line was offering him a dare. A double dare. ‘Go on, wee man, I dare ye to.’ And Billy was always up for a dare. Especially when the prize was a finger of fudge and a tomato soup from the swimming pool vending machine. He broke from the line and began to parade up and down the vestibule in his best, unbroken cherubic voice. ‘I’ll be your long haired lover from Liverpool,’ he sang. The crowds went wild. We were all laughing so hard they called one of the pool attendants to shut us up. ‘And that’s when Rachel first noticed him,’ I told Laura. ‘How’d you know?’ she said. ‘It’s when you first noticed him maybe?’ ‘Rubbish, I’d seen him plenty in the playpark before then,’ I said, ‘and we were six lessons in, so of course I’d seen him. I was the first one to spot his…’ I stopped and laughed. Here we were two forty something women, discussing an eleven year old boy – a primary school kid – as if he were some kind of sex symbol - ‘potential.’ ‘Oh, aye, it was his potential that interested you,’ she quipped back. Followed by ‘beamer!’ We were right back at school. It doesn’t take much to take us there. ‘And he really did that?’ She couldn’t help but be amazed. Not just that I had seen him first, but perhaps that there was something about Billy McGinley that she didn’t know, that she hadn’t known all these years. My little secret.
Discography: Want to sing along? Here are some YouTube links – sorry about attendant ads – sure you can find these all on your streaming music delivery platform (if you have such a thing!):
Hot Chocolate – It started with a Kiss https://youtu.be/L3pf7o-9OOk
David Essex –Hold me Close https://youtu.be/9G2lqY3Nuk0
Queen – Bohemian Rhapsody https://youtu.be/fJ9rUzIMcZQ
Jimmy Osmond – Long Haired Lover from Liverpool. https://youtu.be/YriPIujLtsA
About the Author
Annie Christie is a pretty ordinary person, except that she was born Annie Christie and then married a man called Christie and so is still called Christie despite having taken on her husband’s name. She sometimes wonders if she should have called herself Christie-Christie: but who would believe that?
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives is Annie's fourth McSerial written for McStorytellers.
Born near Drum of Wartle in Aberdeenshire, Annie moved as swiftly as possible to a place with a less bizarre name – Edinburgh – but the bizarreness chased her and she now lives with her husband Rab in rural Galloway, with a Kirkcudbrightshire postcode. (That's Cur coo bree shire to the uninitiated.) She is an active member of the Infinite Jigsaw Project.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives is Annie's fourth McSerial written for McStorytellers.