IT'S July 27, 1966, and barely a week into the school holidays when I tell my mum I'm off on a spotting trip to nearby Derby. "You mind what you're up to," she says. I scoff- what mischief could I get up to, sitting on a luggage trolley with my spotting books? Placated, she finds two bob and tells me to get something to eat. Two bob! It's enough for a trainspotting banquet — sweets, crisps, a Lyons fruit pie and watery chicken soup from the drinks machine. "You be careful," she says again as I head for the station. "Mum...it's only Derby." But it wasn't only Derby at all. I had other plans... this kid was off to London.
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