Thursday, 25 February 2016


There's a headline in the online edition of our local paper here in Leeds which reads: "Thefts reported after 40-50 teenagers gatecrash party."  

The story goes on: "A party attended by teenagers at a house in the Hall Park area of Horsforth on Saturday ended with reports of several thefts after it was gatecrashed by between 40 to 50 uninvited guests, police tweeted today."

And these words brought back some, well, memories.

Above you can see a picture of some Coleraine High School Girls taken in the late 1980s.

That's Karen McLeod on the left and Rhonda-Jayne Bailey second from the right.

And between them - giving what's known in Coleraine as the "reverse f*** off" sign - is Lydia Davidson (now Kerr).

Back in the day, Lydia also threw a party.  She had a free house for the weekend and generously decided to invite a few people over.  I can't remember whether I was one of them, in truth.  But Lydia and I were (and remain) friends, word spread that something was going down at hers and a few of my kin turned up carrying blue offy bags filled with cheap booze.

The only problem was, we weren't alone.  I'd not been to Lydia's house before and feared I might have trouble finding it.  But that proved not to be a problem.

Let me put it this way.  I've not been on a pilgrimage to Mecca.  But it was kind of like that.

In fact, the only obvious differences between the scene you can see above and the night in question was that it was dark in Coleraine, and there were a few more people trying to find Lydia's house.

My mates and I thought we'd arrived reasonably early.  But many others had beaten us to it.  So much so that they'd had sufficient time to punch holes in the ceiling, smash the toilet and "hide" Lydia's pet cat in the freezer.

We didn't stay for long, mainly because rumours were already abound that the police were on their way.  Indeed, we left so quickly that I forgot to lift my bottle of lime cordial and was forced to drink my four cans of Tennent's "straight" when we got to wee Colin Andrews' house shortly afterwards.

26 or 27 years have gone by since that fateful night and, since then, the legends surrounding Lydia's party have only continued to grow.

So, in order to assist social historians piece events together and educate generations to come, I have two simple questions for you.

First, were you at Lydia's party?

And second, what do you remember about it?

Do please get in touch with any information you have and I will pass it on to our hostess, to whom so many of us continue to owe so much.

Let's call it Lydiaid.

In the meantime, here's another treat for all you gentlemen in the audience.

Twit twoo.

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