Beautiful sounds, lyrics & visuals. The sound on this laptop is pretty weak. Geekster (middle son 12) says there is not a way to plug in through my good but old technics system. I tend to trust him when it comes to all things techno or geeky. Most of my old "sounds" are on vinyl. Most of them, like me, have spent too many nights lying around on floorboards, drunkenly discarded & mistaken for ashtrays, when one tune has led to another and so on. So lots of fireworks in the background. Some say it adds to the authenticity. Geekster says burn "copy" cd's of them all from the internet . . .Stropster (16) says burn them, full stop.
Every time I've moved on with my life, or gone on four year "holidays" I've always left everything behind . . None of that split this, share that, saw it down the middle, sell it & split the cash shit., Have the lot. A hangover from my anti-materialistic up-bringing . . . store up your treasures in heaven (soul?) not on earth . . etc. :-) Everything except a small bear, Floppy ears that I've kept since I was 3, a few bits of jewellery, some photos & most importantly my vinyl records.
I came back to England in '88, after 6 years in France, for one week's holiday. Three years later I realised I'd left my earthly treasures behind in France. Oh bugger. I took advantage of a free camping holiday to Port Grimaud (S.France) that young Lochinvar's mother had won in some magazine competition. Obviously to her it really was all about the taking part & not the winning :-) That was as close as I was ever gonna get to my treasures without paying . . . .It only meant spending the week's holiday hitch-hiking from Port Grimaud to a remote village in the Alps, negotiating with my not too happy ex & his even less happy partner. "Yes of course he could keep Fil Colleeens, Zuh poLeece ,Zee rollen Stons" and any others he had bought. I only wanted the ones I had originally brought with me from England, and my guitar, and my teddy, and come to think of it that mandolin hanging on the wall ? . . .Ok maybe not. Then hitching back in the sweltering July sun, along the Cote D'Azur, walking for hours in between reluctant lifts, carrying this lot (I left the mandolin!) Shit man, one Donovan album can weigh 2lbs!!. Abandoning a lift at the entrance to St. Tropez to walk through past hundreds of grid locked cars to the other side. Bonkers. Stark raving bledy bonkers. Arriving back at the camp-site with 4 hours spare to neck a few lagers & a warm bottle of cheap red wine that had sat in the tent all week, nice. Then the hideously stifling coach ride back to England. Which I spent slowly savouring the playlists on the back of the albums, smiling, singing in my head, knowing it had been well worth it. The neighbours knew when I had got back. Twas Bliss. At least I came back.
ps. Just to apologize for editing after posting . . .Just in case anyone has read this . . . .then noticed it change.
Who I am kidding :-)
I'll explain why later . . .
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