Bring back the Drome!

THE needle is gently lowered in the DJ booth. A crackly pause, and then ‘Don’t Stand So Close To Me’ by The Police begins pumping through the speakers.

And there was me, picking up speed, gracefully pirouetting across the floor neatly avoiding the ‘mugs’ who scuttled unsteadily in my wake.

Many would stare in awe. Who was this prince among men?

Never had schoolboy and rollerboot been in such perfect union. It was effortless. I was a living legend - a leg pumping, wheel squeaking, heart-breaking bullet train of skating skill.

Don’t Stand So Close To Me? I’d like to see mere mortals try.

That how I remember it at any rate.

The year was 1981 and the place, of course, was The Rollerdrome.

And it was fantastic.

Back in those halcyon days the place was heaving, packed to the rafters with youngsters red of cheek and black and blue of knee.

For those unlucky to have missed the roller revolution, let me give a guided tour.

After queuing to get in, the first stop for most was a meeting with the person with the keys to the kingdom - the chap who handed out the skates.

There was a whiff of feet in the air, but the eager skater didn’t mind. Even if the boots in question were still warm and damp from the previous session.

The more experienced, like myself, brought their own. Blue suede with orange wheels, if you must know.

Skates on, it was time to venture into the Drome proper.

The first chamber was lined with arcade machines. The tinkle of Space Firebird and Galaxian filled the air, while resting skaters filled their greedy cash boxes with 10p pieces.

There was a cafe, selling microwave burgers and gallons of slush - but by then you were being funneled towards the main arena.

After pausing to smirk at the screeching novices holding onto the bar and each other in ‘Mugs Alley’, it was on to the cavernous main hall.

It had the slick wooden floor of a school assembly hall - but apart from that, the resemblance was as fleeting as a 10-year-old with rocket legs.

Colourful disco lights blazed down on the dancers - except, that is, for two darker sections which were tastefully fenced off.

Flanked with seating, exhausted couples were often observed heading in there for a well-earned rest...

Not I, of course. There was serious skating to be done. And the theme from Jeff Wayne’s epic ‘War of the Worlds’ had just been put onto the wheels of steel...

If it sounds amazing, it’s because it was. Just ask anyone of a certain age and they will tell you.

True, some of these past masters would perhaps now struggle to pull on a pair of slippers, let alone a full eight wheel rig, but those memories never fade.

Like school time summers, we thought it would last forever - and then it was gone.

Maybe that’s what makes it burn so brightly in the memory. Perhaps some things are not made to last and are better savoured in the rear view mirror - like Vesta curry or Barry McGuigan’s hedgehog flavour crisps.

But I don’t think so.

Newtownabbey has its skate park, and good luck to them, but where I come from you don’t need a board.

Want to get young folk away from the street corners? Well, give them something to do.

Better still, it’s good exercise and occasionally pain free.

Bring back the Drome, I say. No, I demand it!