Club Seventy Seven

Town End Cafe, aka Club 77 was not a club as such, in fact it wasn’t a club at all; but a back street cafe. The 77 came from the address of the cafe ‘No77’, the club was actually a gang of young teenagers who rode motorcycles and dressed the same, leather jackets, ice blue denim jeans, motorcycle boots with white fisherman’s socks turned down over the tops and white crash helmets with the number 77 on the side. We met at the cafe not to do anything special, just to hang around and brag about girls and bikes. The table and chairs had all seen better days, they had all been damaged at some time, even patched up and repaired they still bared the scars of many an inconsiderate customer, especially us.