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with cropped sleeves, drainpipe jeans of black or green, worn with black studded belt festooned with silver chain kept in place by safety pins, flourescent teddy boy socks, and white shoes with black laces etc. I even had a safety pin, anaesthetized by being dipped into an alcoholic drink, forced through my left ear lobe by a friend. I removed it once it had started to cause my whole ear to throb.

For the most part, it was a summer of love and leisure, of endless lotus eating mostly spent in the town itself, but also at the legendary Campo del Tenis, or nearby Mijas...and even on one occasion each as I remember it, in Marbella, Torremolinos, Puerto Banus. I was always short of money, but I could order what I wanted at the Tam Tam, and when I was flat broke I was bought toasted cheese sandwiches and bottles of cold Spanish beer or whatever else I wished for by a very dear friend. One night the charismatic British racing driver James Hunt called to her from out of the darkness of a balmy Andalusian night, before vanishing as suddenly as he'd arrived. Yes, it was that incredible a summer.

4. Farewell, Punk Rock (new section)

By 1979 I'd jettisoned Punk for the new Mod Revival look, and thence, New Romanticism. For some reason I felt intensely rebellious in '77, and Punk chimed with that, and then before it had begun it was over. In January 1993, I became a Christian, and as a Christian, what do I think of the hopeful Punk I once was? He serves as part of my testimony, but not much more. I've known young Punks since '77, and they've been sweet to me. I should pray for them. I should pray more. Yes, I should, I really should.

Learn more about this author, Carl Halling.
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