When the tall, thin teenager arrived outside the club’s
headquarters, the queue was already a long one. From the Bishop’s
Offices, it snaked along the lawn in front of the Anglo-Saxon castle
that stood next to the Offices, down to the river, and along its
banks to the High Street, from which the usual light traffic had
been diverted. The pulsating mass of people gave the old town a
human heartbeat.
A group of Sikh football supporters wearing turbans added
variety to the Kentish scene, as did a few Raelists in the kind of
outfit people back in the 20
th
Century imagined people today
would be wearing, though they could not have foreseen how
youngsters would change the colours and patterns at will. Ahead
of Lee, a woman sported a black burqa. Lee appreciated the way
its soft fabric clung to her body, especially when the queue moved
forward. Most folk, however, wore standard Christian garb,
reflecting the identity of a club sponsored by the Church of
England. They might have been modelling for a Grant Wood
painting like American Gothic, which Lee’s class had studied. In the
best tradition of provincial British teenagers, Lee loved that retro
American look as much as fish and chips.