FAITH FULL
I was working in a record store in Chelsea 100 years ago. In my glass box that was the classical and jazz section, I manned alone… Why did I leave those days? She came in with an entourage of youngsters she had clearly picked up at some watering hole. Of course, wanting to award them her CDs. She initially asked if I had broken biscuits. When I looked at her perplexedly, she explained, “That’s what we call ‘Broken English’ in our house.” I suspect she knew that I knew all along but enjoyed the game. Though when I returned with a single obscure title from her back catalogue, she appeared furious. Someone named Beck was big at the time. I remember her mouthing off, “They’ve been going on about fucking Beck. I suppose you’ve got fucking Beck CDs in stock, haven’t you? Get me copies of the fucking Beck CD.” Once they had their gifts, they all pissed off, abandoning moi with a half-cut Marianne Faithfull on my arm. instagram.com/readingbymartin The Diva insisted on walking me up and down th...