Jazz - OK, Rock - Magazines
When I was 14 I found myself with a new step-brother a year older than me, who was in to guitar. He had been moved, forcibly, from England to South Africa, where I had been since 6, and was not happy about the downgrade in culture.

Before long we were making regular trips to the CNA (like WH Smith) in the nearest big town, where we took, like ducks to water, to stuffing imported rock magazines under our jumpers. Circus, Hit Parader, Guitar Player, and later (for me) Bass Player - this went on for at least a year.

This was before CCTV had reached that part of the world, but this crime spree came to a halt when the store brought in security. I think he was supposed to be "plain clothes", but we spotted him with little difficulty. Imagine a South African rugby player with a policeman's haircut, loitering around in a cheap suit. Voertsek, jou pielkop!

We put the magazines back, and sauntered out the door. By that time we actually had pocket money anyway, so we could afford to buy the occasional magazine, and had only been stealing them for kicks. Closer to home, I had managed to lift a huge quantity of soft drink from the fridge outside a local garage, and nearly exploded from sugar and CO2. Good thing we moved to a different town before too long... it could have gotten very ugly.
( bnt what, me worry?, Fri 11 Jan 2008, 16:52, Reply)