I knew that the only way to achieve full closure on this difficult chapter of my life was to go to London and retrace Rory’s own steps by walking his Lonely Mile. It would be a strange form of pilgrimage for me.
Once Upon A Time there was a band. A band that was Made In Dublin. And there was a girl. Who wasn’t Made In Dublin. But was formed there. In a way. In the 1980s and the 1990s. In the parts of Ballymun that passed themselves off as Glasnevin.
At that time, I didn’t own a record player of my own, so we stopped at my grandparents’ house to pick up my dad’s old one from the attic: a Ferguson 3057. We carted it home and my dad installed it in my bedroom.
I write down everything I know: albums, early bands, band members, famous gigs, instruments played and anything else I could remember. You couldn’t record with a Walkman but I had kept my small cassette player/recorder and now made sure I had new batteries and a clean C90 cassette.