In 1963 in South London a legendary but short-lived band was formed. For three years it gave pleasure to countless teenagers in London and south-east England.The legend lives on . . .
In 1963 in South London a legendary but short-lived band was formed. For three years it gave pleasure to countless teenagers in London and south-east England.
Then, in 1966, the members drifted apart to pursue their own individual careers; an astronaut, a counter-intelligence operative, a brain surgeon and a leader of international mercenary troops.
Thirty-five years later, in a dusty bar in a backstreet of Ulan Bator, the four chanced to meet.
"You know what's wrong with the music the kids are listening to today?" asked Leonardo, his eyes meeting those of his three companions in turn. Petros and 
Stanislaus averted their gaze blankly down to the tablecloth, its checked pink and white pattern barely visible through the beer stains.
to recall.
"Yeah." Leonardo sank back into his reverie.
"We coulda been grammy winners!" said Petros, his eyes brightening.
"I don't want any grannies," replied Stanislaus, alert now, with indignation, "what about those beautiful young groupies that used to follow us around?"
The four men underwent a subtle change. They seemed more interested, more aware of their surroundings.
"I know what's wrong with today's music!" mumbled Leonardo, almost to himself, " – we are not making it."
"Yeah," said the other three, bewilderment leaving them like mist from a summer morning, and the band was reformed . . .
. . . to be continued . . .