‘That afternoon I wrote five books, edited a magazine and then went to the pub with Jimi Hendrix’
I’d say I was a fairly typical Londoner of my generation. I was born during the Blitz in 1940 and I’d stay out with my mate Keith until my mum called us in. Happy times. I loved reading Stendhal and Edgar Rice Burroughs, and by the age of 11 I was making a living from writing what would now be called fanzine fiction. I soon became quite well known and used to sit around in pubs with JG Allard. Miserable sod never liked anyone’s fiction but his own. “Tell you what, Allard,” I said one day, “why don’t you just piss off and crash your car?” He never gave me the credit for that.
A fog descended and I found myself going through some gates in Carmelite Inn Chambers and came across an inn called The Swan With Two Necks. “Welcome to Alsacia, Mister Moorcock,” said Friar Isidore. “We’ve been expecting you.” Well, knock me down with a feather, if Prince Rupert and D’Artagnan weren’t sitting in the corner! “Wotcha lads,” I said. Just before I passed out, I could have sworn this fantastic looking woman called Moll Midnight gave me the come-on.
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