Old bastards like myself will remember the early incarnations of Clive Sinclair’s ludicrous Brit-computers like the ZX Spectrum and ZX81 being lampooned for the ‘hilarious’ rubber keys on their keyboards. I still take exception to this, and I still can’t really fathom out why such an innovation was unceremoniously dumped in history’s rubbish bin, reduced to being blathered about, along with white dog shit, spangles and Limahl, by the likes of Zoe Ball on some ‘I Love the 80’s’ documentary.
As a local lad made good we can’t believe it took us a couple of issues before we got in touch with Dominic Stansfield. It’s not just the local angle that appeals though. His clothes are and always have been blessed with bags of character and individual without getting anywhere near the realms of looking daft. Quite the opposite in fact. It’s all ace. So we had a chat.
It’s a Saturday morning, 11.13 am to be precise. The weather outside is clement. Mums go visiting family, people are going to Weddings, dads chat over the fence to neighbours about grass growing techniques (more fertilising than hydroponics), lads go to the football match, have a few scoops, discuss latest signings, maybe even get their hands dirty.