Kesta

I used to spend fucking hours in the bathroom trying to make myself a 9

And Kesta would roll out of sleep off the couch tipping over his pot noodle on toast

A perfect 10 every time

Tell you man, he looked like a young Robert De Niro from Mean Streets

He had a glint in his eye, and a cheeky grin, there was something irresistible about him

He had a bit of the Fagan in him

I reckon I must have met Kesta around 1990, late 80’s in Newcastle and I lost track of him in about 1995

I mind Kesta went to, it wasn’t prison, he was to young for that, it wasn’t borstal either, it was a correctional centre, over Christmas, and I never asked him what he did

But amongst all his friends I was kind of seen as respectable so we used to get together and drive down and visit him in bashed up Ford Fiesta with a family of mice living in the glove box which I discovered one day

I think they’d been there a while

But I remember, I remember when he got out

It was just after New Year

I was stood in front of a great big iron door, prison door And all I could hear on the other side was shouting and screaming, clapping of hands and stamping of feet

And the door opened and Kesta came running out

And I kind of understood about, well I understood a little bit more about freedom

Being free, feeling free and just being glad to get the fuck out of somewhere

And our journey back to Newcastle was loud music, laughter and a lot of spliffs

So Kesta was the drummer in a band that I was in, he was a great drummer

He did a drum solo once, came in at the wrong time, kind of mistimed it

He was more like a boxer on a drum kit than he was a drummer, but he played something quite unique

I’ve got an old VHS video of it, still watch it sometimes Ironically we played in Durham Prison, that was our only gig On the alter

And after the gig I remember most of the inmates jumped onstage with us and started tearing off their clothes and showing us their tattoos and I must admit I felt like a bit of a soft lad ‘cos I didn’t have any tattoos, and I still don’t

But Kesta did

So over the course of getting to know Kesta

Every Monday night in Newcastle as students, be about

19, 18, or 20 , something like that

Me and him would go out and drink fifty quid and talk about the world as you do

And that was a good session

And I used to work back then, my uncle Ronnie was a steward at a working mens club on Chilli Road so I had a dollar

IAnd remember Kesta saying to me he was skint, didn’t have any money, so I leant him fifty quid and I just said you give us it back sometime

And he was pretty taken aback by that ‘cos, I realised and later understood that I think that was the first time anyone had ever really trusted him you know

And like I say he was a rogue but he had a good heart, I loved him

And he may have borrowed money off all kinds of people and never given it back but he always gave it back to me

A kind of established trust

And like I say I moved away and I lost Track of Kesta in 1995

Some mornings Kesta would come into college and he’d have braided hair, Sometimes he would come in and he’d be bruised black and blue

I think he’d had a weekend going ‘round Newcastle, not sleep much, and he’d be selling polo mints to the clubbing crowd and every now and again when people realised they were having polo mints instead of what they’d paid for

Kesta would made the mistake of knocking on the same place and hence the black and blue

Yeah, some Monday mornings he’d turn up pretty stiff from it

Seems like when you hear summit good and it’s kind of involuntary, you take it for yourself and you make it your own

Kesta introduced me to the phrases “WHAT A FUCKIN BELTA” and “AM I FUCK “ as in

We’re going to a gig tonight Kesta are you coming with ?

Who is it ?

I divn’t kna, somebody

AM I FUCK

So out of all the people that I know, that I used to know, that I used to see a lot my mind turns to Kesta maybes ‘cos he’s got a bit more troubles maybes

He just had a bit more going on than everyone else I knew Or maybes it’s because I just loved him

And out of all the people that I knew, that I know my mind turns to Kesta every now and again