In the winter of '73/'74 Factory were playing the Watermill Hotel in Paisley, near Glasgow. As was the custom when it was too cold to sleep in the van, it fell upon me to try and negotiate a floor for the night. I occasionally had to resort to the trick of getting myself invited back to some lady's flat and at the last minute asking if she didn't mind if four other guys came too!
No luck in the bar this night so I asked over the mic if someone could put us up. At the end of the set, two burly, long-haired Glaswegian guys offered and we duly accepted. They guided us back to their place which was a flat in a run-down tenement building in an area you wouldn't want to get lost in.
|Our hosts were hospitable and
we noticed their generosity with a large brown lump of Morocco's finest
that barely fitted into the Embassy cigarette pack it was stashed in.
Well, we had a lovely night and probably slept very well!
I think we must have overslept that morning, as we rushed to grab our belongings. We bid farewell to our new friends and went down to the van, which was thankfully still there and intact. We eventually found our way through a labyrinth of backstreets to the road to Edinburgh, our next gig.
As we hit the M8, I reached for my first cigarette of the day. But as I opened the Embassy packet I realised I'd made a mistake! No cigarettes, but a large lump of Moroccan! We'd never find our way back there in a month of Sundays, so.....what to do with this stuff, then? Anyway, perhaps it's a good thing we didn't do a return gig in Paisley.