Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
Ditto Brown: telling who your real friends are
.
Summer 1981; one night. Jim and I walking back up Adelaide Road en route to McCart-
ney's flat after an evening listening to bands at Dingwall's, Camden Lock. The south side
of Adelaide Road consists, for one long stretch, of a brick wall - maybe nine or ten feet
or so high - with a steep embankment behind it sloping down to the main railway line
leading to Euston. I was still in my Drunken Urban Climbing period, and had shinned
up a bus stop sign to get onto the top of the wall so I could walk along the top. Jim was
keeping pace on the pavement below. He shouted up;
'Banksie?'
'What?'
'Do you trust me?'
'Of course I trust you.'
'You sure?'
'Positive.'
'Okay. Throw yourself off the wall and I'll catch you.'
'What?'
'Throw yourself off the wall and I promise I'll catch you.'
'Are you insane; we'll probably both break our necks.'
'No we won't. Come on!'
'You're fucking mad.'
'I can do it. I know I can. You'll come to no harm. Trust me.'
'James, we're both very drunk indeed. This is a bad idea.'
'Ach, just dae it anyway.'
I considered. 'As ever your impeccable logic has proved too much for me, my fine
friend. I'll do it.' I stopped and got ready to jump down onto Jim.
He moved out into the street a little. 'Na, wait.'
'What?'
'You've got to jump off backwards.'
'
What?
'
'It's too easy if you jump off forwards; you'll see that I'm there to catch you.'
'Ah,' I said, seeing what he meant. 'You're right.' I thought. 'Could I not just keep
my eyes closed?'
'Don't be daft, you're bound to open them; only natural. It's a lot simpler if you just
turn round and jump off the wall backwards.'
'Oh, well, what the hell. Okay.' I turned round, then shouted over my shoulder.
'Ready?'
'No. Hold on a minute. There's a bus coming.' We waited until the bus had passed. I
waved at people on the top deck, then turned round again.
