Tuesday, 9 September 2008

A damp, drizzly September in my soul

I am a person who likes the winter. I like the cobweb-blasting crispness of it, and the rosy cheeks it gives me. I have congenitally pale blue legs, so I enjoy being able to wear tights, and not feeling obliged to expose my freak-limbs to the world while justifying my decision not to fake-tan. I have a winter birthday. Like many others in the northern hemisphere, I also have a winter Christmas. Those are good things. But this particular in-between time of year doesn't half make me feel gloomy – for all sorts of reasons, not just the weather.

Perhaps this is why I am not feeling especially garrulous blog-wise (was ever a hyphen more hatefully employed? remind me never to join those words together again). I could of course regale you every day with what I'm having for tea (breaded haddock) or who I sat next to on the train (no one, day off), but I do have some cyber-standards. Admittedly, few. You are lucky you have escaped my mental list of other American stars of the 80s I would like to see in panto (Mr T as the Genie in Aladdin - 'I ain't gettin' in no lamp' etc. I was scared off by the bitter-tasting subtext of slavery inherent in this piece of potential casting). 

Anyway I have learnt from my peers that the YouTube inbed is the lazy blogger's friend. And I have also learnt that music is one of the great modern medicines. Of course, it is also one of the great communicators, and not just because the Red Hot Chili Peppers said so. It always make me feel connected to my dad, who I am thinking about a lot at the moment, so here is a favourite of his, and of mine. I suspect Bolan might possibly be miming here, but as the French say, ce n'est fait rien. Over to you, Pop Match.

2 comments:

The Flying Shrimp said...

Oooh, how excited was I when clicking on the video to see the very date of my birth pop up. I think I may have even squeaked out loud. There aren't many notable events related to 22 December 1970 (with the possible exception of Switzerland signing the UN Treaty re the Provisional accession of Tunisia to the General Agreement on Tariffs and Trade)so I was quite gleeous (it's a word that should exist even though I know it doesn't. yet.) So even though you're down, thank you for making me smile.

Anonymous said...

You've reminded me of one of my favourite facts: Marc Bolan grew up one minute from my flat in Stoke Newington. Check it out here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stoke_Newington_Common
...and also wonder at the fact that I live on a piece of grass that used to be called Cockhanger Green.
10 yards away there is an upright sword cemented into a concrete plinth, Excalibur-stylee. Could this be connected to Mr Bolan?
Mme Treacle