in my mind those figurines are the three degrees singing ‘when will i see you again’. y’know gardening’s a pure and sure sign of age. when i was younger living in ireland, thomas would come over on visits despairing how i never cut the grass. in summer it grew four foot high, but i was fine with that.spiky thistles would appear, and i’d perceive it as a natural meadow. how i loved smoking joints out there in the summertime. these days i’m drug free, hoovering carpets, dead heading flowers, and it’s freaking me out. in turn it’s making me freak the garden out by rendering the scene devoid of any good taste. it’s full of ghosts peeping out from behind flowers. when a dear german friend of thomas’s was over, he didn’t like it at all, but i wonder if the worst taste is what aspires to be good taste itself.
another sign of age is corduroy..it’s a blue blanket for those who were teenagers in the early 1970’s..little levi corduroy jackets and jeans..suede chelsea boots. let’s not forget those t-shirts that folk my age just love to wear.i have em all. lou reed..cockney rebel…ones with record labels on them..clockwork orange.. extinct recording studios. my clothes yell david cassidy and the partridge family, and i’m 56 years old, but does it really matter?
the most awful sign of ageing happened to me a while back … i was wanking furiously at four in the morning in the hope of getting some sleep…mid-stroke i found myself fumbling around in the dark for my asthma inhaler.. so i gave up and just glowered at the ceiling.
all i can say is thank heavens for modern technology. computers and the dolly-net plunge us into the 21st century weather we like it or not.. we get to hear all the new music for free. i for one love lots of it , but it won’t stop me singing the bee gees in the kitchen ..oh god no.