Coventry, we meet again, I'm nearly turning 65 but once sold Hobo Mag in the Cross and down the Dive. Hubcap city, I rode in a Daimler with my dad, walked your bombed out ruins as a lad, saw the Phoenix rise from out of ashes, peeping like Tom in the Kongoni with those wild lasses; talking Zen with beat poet Byron; Bohemian days with Ratty Roadent in arty days before the Clash. Saw all those bands inside Lanch, thought we were progressive and so advanced. You had designs on me for your assembly lines while I worked on my freedom rhymes, but that was years and years ago, I'm back on a visit to say hello!
Photo and text by Trev Teasdel
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