We met up with some interesting personalities during the Yuletide. Among them, for the very first time, was a lady called 'Country Girl Shirley'. And I renewed what previously was only a fleeting acquaintance with a man named Marlon Allers.

I'll get back to Country Girl Shirley and focus firstly on Marlon. The last time I saw him was more than 30 years ago. He was one of the heavily dreadlocked boys on the block in Court Street, Hamilton. Now he's a giant-sized, ordained Christian minister who, among other things, is writing his dissertation for a PhD from the University of Wales.

Marlon seemed happy to talk not so much about himself, but rather about his vivid memories of an encounter I had on Court Street as a hot-shot television ZFB-TV news director covering the 1977 riots.

The riots resulted in the Government imposing dusk-to-dawn curfew and the British Government dispatching a detachment of the Royal Fusiliers. Tensions rose during the outbreak that night when the late L. Frederick Wade, then deputy Opposition Leader, was arrested, bundled into a police paddy wagon and locked up at Casemates.

And it was the night my car went up in flames after a rioter hurled a missile through my windscreen. Marlon gave his eyewitness account of a friendly posse of young men escorting me to safety from the violent, tear-gassed scene. While that was an unforgettable experience, I have to confess I could not articulate the happenings of that night with the facility of a Marlon Allers.

I finally got around to interviewing him. I found a moral to his story in these times when we hear so much negative chatter about 'boys sitting on the walls'. It is simply, be careful not to write off 'the boys who sit on the walls'. (see Marlon's story below).

Now back to Country Girl Shirley. The conversation at our party was stimulating. When it got around to expressions of our respective tastes in music and our pastimes, I mentioned how much I enjoyed driving and listening to Miss Thang, particularly when she plays R. Kelly's Locked in the Closet and other music. And also when Dennis Mitchell and David Lopes play their country and western music.

One of my favourites I mentioned casually was Johnny Cash's recording of A Boy Named Sue, and how much I wanted to get it. Without hesitation, a lady said: "I'll bet you anything; I know who has that, Country Girl Shirley!

Up to that moment I thought Country Girl Shirley was a figment of the imagination of radio deejays making up dialogue for one reason or another. For years and years I had heard one DJ after another sending out dedications for Country Girl Shirley.

Our hostess offered to take me to meet Country Girl Shirley, and so said, so done. When we were introduced, my mind was utterly blown, as this gentle, smiling lady extended the right hand of fellowship.

My first impulse was to say to her, "I must take your picture," reaching for my trusted camera. "No you won't," she responded, adding: "You are not going to blow my cover. Some of my neighbours and friends don't even know who I am," she added.

I had to resign myself with the hope that one of these days, Country Girl Shirley may break down and let me profile her. She has a story to tell.

And, incidentally, she gladly enabled me to get a copy of her ABoy Named Sue.