33

IN WHICH… I BACK A REAL WINNER

It was Josie’s fault. Of that there’s no doubt. Within 48 hours of meeting her, I’d abandoned all restraint and done something I’d never expected to do. It had happened so suddenly that I was left feeling a little guilty. But nonetheless thrilled and excited by what she had made me do. I hadn’t intended to do it, but I was swept away on a wave of emotion and now felt as though because of her I had a secret I could never share with my wife.

It had started innocently enough at Ascot racecourse on the first Wednesday of May 2018. I was hosting a hospitality box at the races, entertaining 10 people associated with my work on the annual William Hill Sports Book of the Year award which I and bookshop owner John Gaustad, created 30 years previously. Every winner of the award lands a hefty cash prize, a large free bet – and an invitation to the races. This was that day at the races for the 2017 winner, Andy McGrath, whose excellent book, Tom Simpson: Bird on the Wire, about the early, tragic British cycling hero Tom Simpson had captivated the judges, three of whom were present to help Andy celebrate his triumph.

There was a great atmosphere all afternoon. Everyone, including me for once, seemed to have backed at least one winner. Respected broadcaster John Inverdale, there with his wife Jackie, started the ball rolling by backing a horse, whose owners were obviously fans of Debbie Harry, if not Blondie, called Getchagetchagetcha. At 16/1 in a field of four, against a red-hot favourite, the horse seemed unlikely to win. But the bookies’ designated ‘certainty’ blotted his copybook, rearing up as the stalls opened, leaving champion jockey Ryan Moore with all he could do even to stay on the animal’s back. Meanwhile, the other three were charging down the track many lengths clear. It was only a sprint, but by the time they reached the final furlong, Moore had urged his favourite back on almost level terms, but in a thrilling, flat-out finish, Getchagetchagetcha held on to win.

By the end of the afternoon most of the guests had departed and just four people, my wife Sheila and I, together with Andy McGrath and his charming partner, Josie, remained in the box. I’d mentioned that a horse called Josie’s Orders had won a race a day or two earlier when ridden by my favourite jockey of all time, Nina Carberry – although Josie in the box had known nothing of that. We were chatting, chewing over the fat of a lovely day. An obvious thing to ask people you have only recently met is where they live. When the reply, ‘West Norwood’ came, I did what I do so often, and immediately asked, ‘Are there any good second-hand record shops there?’ Josie responded that indeed there was one notable example of the species. A shop called The Book & Record Bar.

Less than 48 hours later I was standing outside this very establishment. The exterior of the shop betrayed its original purpose – as a pub, The Gypsy Queen. Indeed, the building still operates as a social hub and frequently offers live music. I had managed to do a little checking out of the place online and found this assessment on the Brixton Buzz website: ‘Owner Johnson knows his black stuff – he built up a collection of over 10,000 vinyl records over the last 40 years, and as a contributor to the yearly Rare Record Price Guide you’ll be unlikely to find a wildly under-priced bargain here.’

The interior, as I walked in at around midday on a Friday, looked welcoming. Music was playing. A man speaking in a foreign accent – French, probably – who was accompanying a gentleman in a wheelchair, was engrossed in conversation with another man – owner Johnson, I assumed – behind the counter. They looked over briefly as I came in, but continued chatting. My first impression was positive. It was quite neatly laid out. The books were shelved around the edges of the large room and the records, all in plastic covers and in labelled sections – BLUES, JAZZ, etc – looked tidy and in decent condition. I was surprised and very encouraged as I spotted not only a US PSYCH section, but also UK PSYCH and PROGRESSIVE headings. This just could be very much my kind of shop.

I began to flip through the UK PSYCH and adrenalin kicked in as I saw intriguing and desirable records one after the other. I had to stop, look around, check that I hadn’t wandered into a parallel universe, and begin calmly to collect up records for potential purchase. Soon there were a dozen or more of them in my little pile. Names I knew but didn’t often come across in such shops, like Dando Shaft, Help Yourself, Aynsley Dunbar, Alan Bown, were appearing with every flip. I moved on to US PSYCH, then had a go at ‘NEW ARRIVALS’. All the while adding to my heap. I was entertained by some of the little labels attached to records – one advising of a record called ‘Sunday All Over the World’ that it would cost £10 and that it came ‘with Robert Fripp (good) and Mrs Fripp (bad)’. This told me far more than a subsequent review I would read which declared that it ‘is an arty, ambitious project that attempts to push the boundaries of pop music’. I slotted the record back and moved on. Aardvark, Illinois Speed Press – still they kept on coming. The Parlour Band. The Smubbs. I felt like I was in one of those daydreams which all too soon reveal themselves to be just that.

I reverted to consciousness with a bump when I totted up the total cost of the albums I’d gathered together. This was a three-figure sum, the like of which I’d never before handed over in one record shop transaction. One which would result in stern looks and long periods of silence should word ever get back to Mrs Sharpe. What to do? Put some back, spend a realistic, modest amount and come back in the future, said the sensible voice in my head. I ignored it. What if I came back and all of these great records had gone to other, bolder customers? I remembered the training I’d been putting in for just such a situation. Long hours spent watching and absorbing the lessons from experts on programmes such as Antiques Road Trip and Bargain Hunt. Here was an unprecedented opportunity to demonstrate that I could be as ruthless a bargaineer as them.

Fortunately, Michael Johnson, the proprietor of Book & Record Bar, is a genuine gent. He reckoned up a total value, offered a discount and was generous enough when my training kicked in and I boldly demanded, ‘Er, do you suppose we could perhaps, er, maybe agree on a fiver less, don’t worry if we can’t, I’ll still pay the going rate.’ He gave his instant, good-natured agreement.

Michael always felt he was going to end up as a record shop owner, which he finally managed in 2013, even back in the day in a different working life, spent travelling around the country. ‘I would make a point of visiting the local record shop. It was a time when there were piles of now valuable albums being sold for clearance purposes for literally just a few pence, so I bought them up.’ He references, as an example, the group Black Cat Bones, whose album Barbed Wire Sandwich now has a £500 RRPG quote: ‘They couldn’t give it away, then, and there were many more similar examples. But I was buying for a purpose, looking ahead to the time when I’d eventually be in a position to open a second-hand record shop.’

I responded that I remembered grabbing a Skip Bifferty album from a pile of them, stickered at just 59p in a local Debenhams 40 years or more ago. I wished now that I’d splashed out on four or five copies, as they can now command some £200. Michael’s foresight paid off, but he clearly is not just a businessman. He is someone who genuinely loves the vinyl he buys and sells, and no doubt has an enviable personal collection. Just listening to him discussing records with the customers who came in to trade showed his knowledge.

‘Yes, you’ll love “Sock It To ’Em J B”,’ he told one man, who was previously unaware of the single by Rex Garvin and the Mighty Cravers – part of the soundtrack of my disco life in the 1960s.

The man had come in hoping to sell some records for ‘X’ amount, and had been gently talked down to accept ‘V’ amount for them and, in another example, ‘U’!

I leave, completely uplifted by my morning’s work, in the sure and certain knowledge that this is a shop I will return to again and, quite possibly, again.

I head back up the road to nearby West Norwood station, thinking: ‘Thanks, Josie – visiting that shop proved a very worthwhile gamble. Rather like my early career change…