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Sunday, March 07, 2010
Where Were You When We Were Getting High?
Excerpt from our friends at Zani.co.uk
We’ve all got an Oasis memory in there somewhere. Mine was standing outside Noel Gallagher’s house, Supernova Heights, in the rain at 10am on 31st July 1997, wondering if he was in and whether I would meet him. It was the day after he’d been to Downing Street with Alan McGee.
I was 14 years old, and I had never met anyone famous before. The papers were dominated with the Tony Blair story, but there was a remarkably small amount of paparazzi around his house. ‘Be Here Now’ was three weeks off being released, and there were flyers and posters plastered everywhere in London - on every lamppost, bin, and spare wall - instructing the public to “Be There Then” when it happened. ‘D’You Know What I Mean’ had been and gone from number One, Noel’s cat had reportedly gone missing and tickets to Oasis’ shows at Earls’ Court with The Verve as support had sold out in minutes; I was one of those fans who had spent hours pressing “redial” on the home telephone (I still didn’t own a mobile) upset that I couldn’t get through. I was amazed at the level of humility present in Noel’s lifestyle considering the hype around Oasis at this time.
His house was separated from the main street only by a tiny little waist-height gate that even my 5ft 0 height could have easily climbed over had I felt inclined to. And it wasn’t exactly a difficult place for a fan like me to find. When you came out of Belsize Park or Chalk Farm station, you’d spot graffiti, directing you straight there: “This way to Noel’s house” an arrow pointed at the foot of Steele’s Road, like it was a national tourist landmark. At the time it practically was! I just wondered if he didn’t feel vulnerable in this situation. If you looked to the left, you could see straight into his front room. Judging by the graffiti on his front wall, just like on Abbey Road, it was clear that people were coming here every day, doing exactly what I was, as if on a pilgrimage. “It’s rude to write on God’s property, so this is the best I can do” I saw written on the pavement by the little gate. Everyone who wrote on that wall must have had a story about what circumstances brought them there that day; imagine what kinds of magical stories they would be if we all knew what those were.
Read on at Zani.co.uk
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