Saturday 15th September

Alison was one of those who got away.   She left me, but I am not sure I would ever have left her; I was absolutely besotted with her and wrote far too much torrid poetry about her for years after she left. Long story – but she did a Shirley Valentine on me, and way before the film too.  1984 I think, on Crete she stayed behind with a Greek restaurant owner after our short romantic holiday there.  But as well as a broken heart she left me with a couple of cassette tapes.  One was Janis Ian – Between the Lines.  I had never even heard of Janis Ian, though she had been around since the early sixties.  This early seventies album I think led to a revival of interest in her, and she is still going strong and making music.

But the reason for the success of Between the Lines and why it is so adored by her fans is that it is such a confessional open and honest record.   Her voice sounds so wounded on these delicate songs of desolation and rejection that it just tugs at the heart strings.  We have all been there, ‘At Seventeen’ that nervous wallflower, the ugly ones who never get asked to dance.  I love all the songs, especially ‘In the Winter’ ‘Tea and Sympathy’ and ‘Lovers Lullaby’.  I played the tape to death for years and now it hardly plays, so I have just re-ordered it on CD and cannot wait to open that annoying cellophane wrapper and slip it into the CD player, and waltz round the room and envelop myself once again in my memories of Alison, Crete and my misery when she left.

For I find that those miserable memories are always the ones that mean the most.  To have known utter desolation, and to have recovered; ah, that is living.