Wednesday 21st March

I am sitting in a Starbucks window seat, not on one of those ridiculously high stools with their narrow high counter, or in the leather sofa designed specifically to induce sleep on it’s habitué’s, but at a plain wooden table and chair where my croissant and latte (medium, not grande thank-you) wait to be consumed.  I am looking out over one of my favourite  parks; Green Park, and rightly named it is too, with its stately trees and sweeping slopes of rolling green grass.

The sun is streaming into my window and I am basking in it, gently turning my face to feel its warmth. At last it seems that Spring is finally here.  I was up particularly early and out by six-thirty today.  Walking, just walking and thinking about the world, life and my book, maybe plotting and planning the next moves of the protagonists in my new story.  It is going slowly, but quite well despite that. I am not the sort of writer who can just write reams and reams.  Mine is a process of constant re-reading; I read it as if someone else had written the story so far and I have to read it anew and begin the process of immersing myself in it, starting to believe in my characters, to begin to live their lives for them, before I can start to write the next bit.  I am just the humble translator of their thoughts, a slave to my characters whims.  Some days I don’t quite get there; I just read and re-read and maybe all I have achieved is changing a couple of adjectives, or maybe substituting a semi-colon for a comma.

I used to fret and worry that this writing was so slow, but it doesn’t matter.  Of course as a rationalist and an atheist I realise that nothing matters at all in the history of the Universe, in the immense spaces of time passed and yet to be played out, the entropy of the Universe, the death of the myriad stars, the workings of a single human mind, let alone the entire species or the survival of the planet itself counts very little. But then again contrary and simultaneous at the same time everything matters too.

Ah, the sun is warm on my face – surely this is the only God worth worshipping, for without its daily blessing we surely cease to exist.  Let us hope that it continues to burn brightly and that we don’t throw too much shit into the atmosphere to block out its life-giving warmth.  So while the sun is still shining, have a nice day.

Tuesday 20th March

Don’t you find it depressing when these Annual events come round, it reminds one of the passing years and that one is growing older, and the speed they seem to recur makes it feel as if one is growing older faster and faster too.  And nowadays the Budget is such a stage-managed event; it is more to garner headlines than to make any real difference.  I mean, everyone is talking as if getting rid of, or reducing the 50p tax rate is a done deal; it almost seems pointless waiting for Wednesday’s announcement, it won’t be a surprise now.  But that is the way things are done nowadays, stories and hints are trailed in the press as if they are leaks when in fact they have been planted by the very politicians who exhibit such surprise at their very suggestion.

Whatever Mr. Osborne decides in his wisdom, or more likely as a compromise with the hurt feelings of the LibDems, who are getting the sharp end of the public’s anger whatever they do, let us hope that it can get the economy going again.  The one thing that is sorely missing is Confidence, but that is largely because the wretched Coalition went overboard on Austerity, and the need to reduce the deficit so quickly.  In all probability they may have made it worse, by making everyone so scared that no-one is moving house or buying new cars or going on expensive holidays.  Like a lot of little squirrels we are guarding our dwindling store of nuts, because everyone has been telling us we are in for a very hard winter, lasting several years, and nuts may be hard to find in the future.

And what is it with the Tories that they hate the Public sector so much.  If conditions and pensions are much better in the public sector, then surely any government should be passing legislation to make the private sector as well provided for too.  It is a myth that the Private sector always gets it right, and that the Market will set the right price for everything.  The Market has no conscience, has no brain, cannot see into the future and is not concerned for anyone’s survival but its own.  The Market is not God, and even if it were, it would only go to prove that God can be a nasty-minded little so-and-so at times.

Politics is a pendulum, which each party tries to swing one way or the other, only time will tell if it has swung too far in one direction too quickly or still has further to go.  Tick Tock.

Monday 19th March

That was the catch phrase that epitomized what the Pythons were all about.  Quite often after a remarkably silly sketch John Cleese in his radio announcer voice-over, or sometimes in a dinner jacket in front of a microphone would look dead serious and say, “And now for something completely different.”  And of course the next sketch would be just as stupid, or maybe some of the same stuff.  The most ironic thing was that of course the Pythons themselves were something completely different, so it actually made no sense, because everything they did was so completely different that it didn’t need saying.  It was also very subversive humour, I am not sure if my mother ever really got it, and Grandma would just get bored, pick up the paper and say, “I really don’t know why you watch this rubbish Catherine, it’s just a lot of men acting silly and using funny voices.  Are you sure there isn’t something on the commercial channel?”  I would smile sweetly and say, “It’s nearly over Grandma, not much longer to go.”

I don’t remember really laughing out loud while watching Monty Python, not like we all did at Hancock, or Steptoe and Son.  This was a different sort of humour, often a subtle comment on society and its stuffiness.  Looking back it was a natural progression from ‘That was the week, that was’ and ‘The Frost Report’.  Maybe it was a conspiracy of the young, in much the same way that ‘South Park’ became for a much later generation; to the older generation, in the latter case, me – a load of rubbish, and not even funny, but to the cognoscenti, those in the know, those young enough and hip enough to be in on the joke it was obvious what it was all about.

I loved the Python’s mix of music and cartoons too, and I think that this perfectly reflected what the ‘sixties’ was about.  It wasn’t just music, or fashion, or politics, but art and literature and cinema too.  It was a refreshing new style after the drudgery and privation of the war years, and the conformity of the fifties, suddenly everything seemed possible.  And was, really.   And for my generation, it has been much the same ever since, a bit of punk, new wave, rave etc:, but essentially it is all the same, nothing new at all really.

I am longing for someone to come up with something really new and say in a semi-serious voice, “And now for something completely different.”

Sunday 18th March

And what a song to complete a week of song titles; a hit from the first moment I heard it.  The Small faces of course, who else – the original Cockney boy band to beat all boy bands, with their cheeky smiles and cute haircuts, they were the ultimate Mod band.  And such genius musicians; Ian McClagen on organ, Kenny Jones on drums, the irrepressible Ronnie Lane on Bass and everyone’s favourite Steve Marriott, the original Artful Dodger on guitar and vocals.  And what vocals, he could sing sweetly and loud in the same song, and always, even when singing in broad cockney, perfectly in tune.  I loved all their songs, but the favourite by a London mile was Lazy Sunday Afternoon.  Another of those absolutely infectious songs that no matter how you try to ignore it, it worms its way under your skin.  I can still remember them on Top of the Pops, probably pissed out of their little brains, falling about with laughter and the audience of young girls with straight long hair and mini-skirts absolutely enthralled to them.  Well, in time honoured fashion the band broke up, with Stevie ascending to the short-lived stratosphere of heavy rockdom with Humble Pie.  Strangley hardly anyone listens to or rates Humbe Pie at all these days, whereas the Small Faces are still treasured. The remains of the band cast around for a new lead singer, and got both Rod Stewart and Ronnie Wood to join them and became even more famous as the Faces.  And although no-one can deny Rod had a great voice, he never quite matched Stevie for sheer power.

So, what a week….Monday Monday, so good for me…..Tuesday Afternoon…..Wednesday Morning, 3 a.m. …..Thursday’s Child……Friday on my Mind……Saturday night at the Movies…..and ….Lazy Sunday Afternoon.

Saturday 17th March

Tough one this, for ages I could only think of the worst song Elton ever wrote “Saturday Night’s Alright for Fighting’ or ‘Saturday Night Fever’.  Thank goodness I remembered just in time the lovely Drifters song ‘Saturday Night at the Movies’.   The sixties were such a mixed-up time musically, there was of course straight Pop music with the Beatles, the Beach Boys, The Stones and the Who, but there were also the crooners, Matt Monroe, Kathy Kirby, Sinatra and Elvis singing ever more turgid stuff, to say nothing of Engelbert, our current Eurovision last hope, all belting out ballads, and there was still a bit of jazz around – the Temperance Seven and Acker Bilk.  From America – was coming the sounds of Bob Dylan and the new bands like the Byrds and The Doors, but also all that wonderful Soul music that had started with Stax and Atlantic and Aretha and Otis, and now was being dominated by Motown and Smokey Robinson, The Four Tops, The Supremes and of course The Drifters.

I always loved this song, and it’s spiritual brother Under the Boardwalk, which seemed to paint a picture of Urban America in the early sixties which to us culture starved Brits seemed exotic beyond our wildest dreams.  And of course the song is not about the movies at all, but about the girl one goes there with, and what we all knew went on when the lights went down; an invitation to illicit sex if ever there was one.  And it is another of those wonderful Soul classics of which there seemed a constant stream, and all such wonderful tunes, you just have to sing along with them.  So, even though one is snuggled up on the sofa with Puddy-Tat and a good book as soon as this song comes on it is always Saturday Night at the Movies.

Friday 16th March

This was a big and I think the only ever hit for the Easybeats in 1966, the year when everything in Music was accelerating at a pace, and each week saw great songs emerging.  The song and the sentiment capture perfectly the exuberance and excitement of the young as they struggle through the working week in eager anticipation of Friday, the start of the weekend.  Work in those days was seen as a real drag – all the fun, the action, the music, the drink and the sex would be happening on Friday night.  And it still does, for many of us.  Nightclubs and bars and lots of restaurants are busiest on a Friday night, as of course are A. and E. departments, and Police Stations.  For a few years I worked at Islington and after work a few of us would go to the pub next door for a couple of drinks.  The release, the relief of knowing there was no work tomorrow was wonderful; a lightheaded devil-may-care attitude seemed to come over us as soon as we were out of the office and laughing and happy we started the weekend in earnest.

I quite liked the song in the sixties, and became happily re-acquainted with it when Bowie in 1973 recorded it for his album of brilliant covers ‘Pin-Ups’ with the marvelous picture of him and ‘Twigs the wonder kid’ on the cover.  It is this even-better-than-the-original version I have always loved.  It really zings along and is just so infectious you cannot help singing “Monday morning feels so bad, every-one seems to nag me, Coming Tuesday I feel better, even my old man looks good.’

So come on let’s get through the week once more, the drudge of existence at work, the days fall like dominoes ‘cause I’ve got Friday on my mind.

Thursday 15th March

This was by one of my all-time musical loves, David Bowie.  Like a lot of Artists from the sixties and seventies David had a tough time in the Eighties and Nineties, trying various styles and production sounds as if trying on different clothes in an attempt to stay looking young.  Bowies essential genius rarely left him completely though, and after the awful and largely forgettable Earthling he came up with a much gentler and softer sound for the 1999 album ‘Hours’.   The songs were gentler too, and more melodic.  The first single was Thursdays Child, quite a simple and delicate little song, not at all what one normally expected from Bowie.  I think it bombed, or at least wasn’t the hit his record company might have been expecting.   It would seem from the prolonged silence since 2003 and ‘Reality’ that David may have all but given up recording songs, at least for the forsee-able future.  Maybe he has nothing new to say, or perhaps he doesn’t need the money so much nowadays, or possibly he realizes that his most creative days are long behind him and anything he does now will always be compared badly to the likes of Ziggy Stardust.  I suspect however that he just isn’t into music that much these days, he was notorious for writing songs just before going in to record them, so maybe he hasn’t lost the talent at all but just doesn’t feel the muse at the moment.  I don’t really mind; he has a huge back catalogue so there is no shortage of Bowie material out there, and who knows how long we may have to wait for anything new, if it ever comes.  The album ‘Hours’ though always did seem a bit out of order, as if it should have come way back in his career, maybe between The Man Who Sold the World and Hunky Dory (my all-time most loved of his records).

I really like the record though, and of his later albums it is by far my favourite; and when thinking of songs with days of the week in them there really was no other choice but ‘Thursday’s Child.’

Wednesday 14th March

I can’t really remember the song that well, but it was also the title of Simon and Garfunkel’s debut album; which was an acoustic folk album made up largely of Paul’s early songs.  It practically bombed on first release but then famously a DJ jazzed up the song ‘Sounds of Silence’ and it became a big hit and the album took off too.  It is really a lovely album, innocent and yet knowing at the same time.  I always loved the cover too, which has our duo sandwiched between speeding subway trains.  According to Art they had to reject many photo’s because of the rude graffiti on the subway walls.  But look closely and they do look quite out of place, Art is even wearing a tie, a definite no-no for any aspiring folkie back then.  Because the album had bombed, Paul came to England to try his luck on the folkie circuit here and recorded an album of his songs ‘The Paul Simon Songbook’; the songs on this little gem being plundered over the next two years as Simon and Garfunkel had to keep coming up with new material.  What none of us realized at the time was that Paul was the real creative genius, writing the songs and playing guitar.  Art was the voice, or part of the voice, part of the lovely harmonies they created.  I can remember in I think it was 1971, when Paul released his solo album ‘Paul Simon’; everyone was amazed at how good it was.  We were all expecting it to be only half as good as a Simon and Garfunkel album, but in fact it was just as good, even if going off in a quite different direction.  The rest is history, and Paul is still recording, and though his albums now are less exciting they are still pretty good.  And it all started with Wednesday morning 3 A.M. a really unassuming little album, but a gem too.

Tuesday 13th March

And now we have the Moody Blues, who started out like many early sixties bands literally playing the Blues.  They had a brilliant early hit ‘Go Now’ which I have always loved.  And after a couple of personnel changes they seemed to change direction, with Justin Hayward joining the band in 1966; they recorded with an orchestral backing, and their brilliant concept album ‘Days of Future Passed’ had the track Tuesday Afternoon on it, as well as the more famous ‘Nights in White Satin’.

They tried to repeat this formula with a few other albums such as ‘On the Threshold of a Dream’ and ‘To our Children’s Children’  but never made anything nearly as good as ‘Days’ again.  They had a tough time in the early seventies, but had a pretty loyal following.  They split in the mid seventies and reformed a few years later and have carried on making the occasional album and playing their hits for the ever-loyal fans.

Enough of the Moody Blues, as I had quite early on.  But the song Tuesday Afternoon has remained in my head far longer than it should have done.  It always lifts my spirits, because funnily enough Tuesday Afternoon is more often than not a bit depressing.  Too far from either weekend, and at school it was always double Chemistry, with all those wretched symbols and Atomic numbers to remember; Hydrogen was one I think and Oxygen eight, and that is all I can remember from those hundreds of Chemistry lessons.  If only I could have had an MP3 player in those days to just plug myself in and drift away with the Moodies on another Tuesday Afternoon.

Monday 12th March

That was a song by the Mama’s and the Papas, just one of the many great bands to emerge from California in the mid sixties.  Whether it was inspired by the Beatles success both here and in America, or whether it was happening anyway, it is a lovely co-incidence, that just as things started to go off the boil a bit here in England, these American bands just kept coming; The Nashville Teens, The Doors, Jefferson Airplane and of course The Mamas and the Papas.  There were two men and two women John and Michelle Phillips, Denny Doherty and Cass Elliot, the famous Mama Cass.  John and Michelle were married and were always doey-eyed at each other, but the real star of the band was Mama Cass, and it is her I remember mostly because , so unusually for then, and even more so for now, she was a large woman, but sexy with it too.  And why not indeed.  My favourite song of theirs was ‘California Dreamin’ but ‘Monday Monday’ was pretty good too.   The only other song I really remember of theirs was ‘This is dedicated to the one I love’ which got to number one.  I think they went a bit too commercial after this and never really capitalized on their unique sound, and split up around 1968 or 69.   The song Monday Monday – so good to me, was the sort of thing you found yourself singing on the way to school, even though Monday was the end of the weekend and the beginning of another awful week of school.  At that time there was just so much great music happening that we thought it would never stop.  I don’t think that a band like the Mamas and the Papas would even get a look-in today, the whole business is too controlled, but at that fortunate time there was a collision of an awful lot of talented youngsters, and a very open-minded record business that was willing to take a chance on all sorts of music, often the stranger and less like anything else the better.  And even now, sometimes I still get up on a Monday and it is that song in my head, rather than the possibly much more appropriate ‘I don’t like Mondays.’