Edmund Kevill-Davies
When I was eleven I pretended I was a massive Grateful Dead fan and took the lie to such an extreme degree that I sported their merchandise and tie dyed my socks, not to mention all my other clothing - even my beloved Super Mario t-shirt. I, to this day could cannot name a single Grateful Dead song, not even one.
It all started in August 1995 when I was on holiday in America with my family in the mountains near New York. We happened to be staying near the town of Woodstock, yep, the one with the festival and also home and pilgrimage spot to many a Grateful Dead fan; Grateful Dead taffy anyone?
During our stay there it was announced that Jerry Garcia had died. Who? Exactly. Sod him, I’ve just bought (thanks Mum) a t-shirt that’s all weird colours with a skull on it and it’s got a lightning bolt and the word DEAD on it, yeah! Oh and I’ve bought a beaded necklace, a bracelet, a tie dye kit and a poster, all with this crazy skull-bolt-DEAD thing on them, wait ‘til my mates back home see this!
Next thing I know I’m apparently a fan of some band called The Grateful Dead and yeah of course I’ve got all their albums and yeah I was there when he died, yeah it’s so sad, peace man…
I love you Jerry.
