The 64 was showing her age, she just couldn't cut it with the demading nee impossible ports of modern arcade cabs she was being asked to do. Any glance at the shitness of Outrun or Afterburner told a story - the 8bit market was dead. The 16bit market was breaking and I had my heart set on an Atari St, spurned on all the more with the fact that my mate Ian had recently gotten hold of a lovely grey Atari ST 540fm. The difficult bit was gonna be sourcing the cash, made all the more difficult given it was around 300 quid and I had an annual salary of just over 2k. As had become a common occurrence with many upgrades I've made, these have been partially funded with the sale of the old hardware. The 64 was reluctantly sold to a mate of a mate. He bought it and weekly payments were agreed upon. Unfortunately the bloke decided to default on payments and a 'visit' was required by my old man and myself to retrieve the goods. The 64 was eventually sold on made all the more desirable with the 400 odd pirate games bundled with it. At last I was finally able to buy into this new exciting market and headed up to 'Rays' to lay down my deposit and agree on the 24 monthly payments.

Frankly, it looks shite!

I came away with the stand alone machine and a copy of 'TNT', a shameless Commando clone albeit with exotic graphics. For months Ian and I made do with that and his 2 games ; Prohibition and Arkanoid.

Buying the hardware was merely the start, trying to scrape enough to buy any bit of software was hard especially since the market forces had decided that 30-40 quid was gonna be the norm. Ian and I decided to buy one between us a month, taking it in turns to 'own' the respective game. It soon became apparent that borrowing games was shit but things took a turn when Grant Henderson acquired his ST.

If Hendo fell in the River Clyde he'd surface with a salmon in his mouth such was the luck and good fortune he seems to attract. He could be construed by many as being a dodgy bloke, perhaps he was but he was a nice guy with it and throughout our 20 year friendship, its been more or less based on mutual benefit.

Fancy a swim?

Hendo never one to miss an opportunity befriended Craig, a youngster no older that 10 years. Craig was precocious, arrogant, big headed, loved Garfield and was downright irritating and obnoxious. He also knew a hacking group and hence had pretty much every game out for the ST. Grant hit on this opportunity and thru 'allowing' Craig to hang out with us 20 something's, we could cream games at will. Leaving Craig's parents house off an evening with a bundle of 100+ disks to copy with the promise of returning first thing in the morning was a common occurrence.

Things were good, we could lay our hands on any game months before release. We were basking in our 16 bit glory and could never imagine wishing to change things.

But change they did, in early 89, the Amiga had dropped in price and was 'the' hardware to own. Ian, Hendo and I saw this and wanted one at any cost. Back then, independent smoked filled computer shops ran the show and it showed, they pretty much had a free reign with prices - you either paid them or went without.

Simply the best

Scouring Yellow Pages Ian spotted a shop in about the only arcade resort in Scotland - Portobello. The place was and still is a rundown seaside resort although it enjoyed a boom time in the summer months in the fifties to mid sixties. It had a few derelict arcades boasting some run down machines with generally fucked controls and buttons.

Ian drove thru and we eagerly carried our boxed ST's in to be handed in along with a favourable wad of sterling and in return we left with a spanking new Amiga 500, the modulator being an extra outlay.

Luckily Craig had jumped ship to Commodore which promised a stream of software. Within days I had around 100 disks with pretty much every Amiga game out there. Things were to change, as Craig matured, he seemed to pick up on the fact he was for all intent and purpose being used, the stakes were raised. To raid his awesome array of 100 disk boxes entailed you taking him for a game of snooker or pool and allowing him to win a few frames. He became more demanding and unwilling to lend us games to the point the software dried up.

Faced with the stark realisation that our milk cow had gone we faced the grim prospect of buying games. For months we made do with our 300 odd games until a phone call changed everything.

Hendo had heard there were people at an open air market near Edinburgh selling games at 3 quid a disk!!

Sunday couldn't come quick enough and with Ian playing the 'couldn't afford anything' card, headed in via Hendo's bit to Ingleston Market.

Ingleston Market is an institution in Scotland. In its heyday it boasted the accolade of being the largest outdoor market in Europe. Opening in the early 70's, its was a revelation in Central Scotland. Here was a place your Mum could pick up a school jacket, 2 pairs of trousers and a pair of school shoes for a fiver. Its was a veritable Aladdin's cave of stuff, you wanted it, someone sold it. Donut and hamburgers stalls sat adjacent to gym equipment and pet food stalls.

Market Day brings out all the little scallys

We entered the car park and were directed by orange vested fat blokes to our bit in the mud. Climbing out the car the cold air and rain stung our face, it always rained at Ingleston, even in summer it rained. it was almost as if this was God's way of paying us back for us buying counterfeit goods. We didn't care, we would get in and out as quick as possible.

Shuffling thru the mud, we scanned the rows and rows of stalls with only some sketchy direction that the guy has a beard and is parked next to a bloke selling Bros mirrors.

Every other stall had Jason Donovan and Bros mirrors, nah, nah, no...hang on beard : yeah he's got a beard. The thing that immediately struck us was the complete lack of merchandise on show bar a few A4 sheets of paper. He gave us a cutting 'don't fuck with me' stare but Hendo broke the tension with his usual charming, jack the lad banter. We asked the price and sure enough 3 quid a floppy disk, 3 fuckin quid for a full game, I'd just come.

Little time was spent hanging around once we'd each bought 5 games. We hurriedly made our way back to the car, going via Grants to copy the games for one another.

Sunday's were now Ingleston day usually heading out as early as possible to get the 'latest' wares. Things progressed with his stall now offering a few boxed joysticks for sale and a couple of 3 year old originals scattered on the black clothed wooden counter. The A4 lists were gone and had been superseded by blue folder with 2 lists, the complete A-Z and a page 1 with the 'latest' offerings. We'd become regulars and would stop and blether always hoping for a freebie, which never happened.

Bearded Brian had done time in prison, so he told us. Whether this was true or merely to buy our silence I don't know but the slashes down his face kinda affirmed that he had indeed been in her majesty's pleasure. In coming weeks, the staff payroll grew. Beard Brian was now helped by his one of sons, Young Brian. Young Brian was gonna become a Quantity Surveyor and would always grin when I questioned his respectable choice of career being funded by this.

What Young Brian could have been

Beard Brian obviously had aspirations to make the business a family concern as within 6 months, 2 sons and 3 of his daughters were now serving. The oldest girl was a fuckin Babe, long dark hair with sallow skin and a smile to melt the heart. There were now 2 reasons to come here. Only a discerning fool would have thought there was any chance with her. The cutting figure of her ex-con Dad hovering in the background ensured you thought with your head first.

Beard Brian had very little hassle in that respect given 99% of the clientele were on averaged 20 stone, bespeckled geeks who's interest was held with the promise that 'Eye of the Beholder 2' would be out next week.

The operation moved on from 'copied' while you wait to pre-copys being handed out to ease the queues. Within 6 months the demand had become huge, from the early days of just Grant, myself and a couple of others now you had to wait your turn along with the dribbly nosed kids and the arrogant 40 somethings who always bought about 20 games.

Short of having a huge neon sign proclaiming 'Copied Games sold here' above the stall, the massive queues were starting to look a touch conspicuous. Beard Brian wasn't there one week, just a bunch of desperate figures shambling aimlessly around somehow thinking that Beard Brain was gonna come out of thin air. The penny soon dropped that they'd be returning home to their sad lives empty handed.

Ooer, I'm so scared

We returned the week after and sure enough Beard Brian was back, he'd been busted the previous week early doors and was incensed that a policemen had 'assaulted' his daughter. For fear of retribution I played the sympathetic listener and agreed that the pigs were indeed scum. The power of the law had wielded its force so hard on this guy that he was back 7 days later with his 10,000 odd disks again.

In an effort to prevent this happening again, Beard Brian introduced a polythene curtain which you had to pull back which allowed to stand shelter from the elements and unseen at the back of the stall. I hated that, standing with all these people I had nothing in common with, they were always ugly, looked poor and I loathed them I loathed them for lowering themselves to this level, hiding behind a polythene sheet to buy stolen games. We were different, we just were.

The winds of change brought a marriage which made getting thru on a Sunday more difficult. Many a Sunday I would inform Julie I had to pop thru to see my Dad and would be back in half an hour. Accelerator to floor I'd speed thru without Grant, time constraints wouldn't allow, hand over the cash and then get back within the hour. My addiction was kept hidden, Julie never questioned how my disk box was busting at the seems, she didn't care.

Stalls popped up all over the place, everyone and their Aunties ran them and I hated them all, I'd buy their games but I hated them. Even fuckin elderly women sold games, The floppies became CDs and within 8 years, the last legitimate flower and music stall had shut up shop leaving around 100 piracy stalls. Beard Brian was still there.and so was Brian, so much for his fuckin QS career.

Last heard Ingleston was closed completely in Feb 2006.

September 2006

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