In blogging regularly one creates a rod for ones own back. one becomes a slave to the blog.
It is a lonely, thankless task (occasionally brightened by the odd comment from a reader).
However it is encouraging to note that this is read in far flung corners of the planet and that people return to it regularly.
Feel free to comment or even email.
Tuesday, 15 September 2009
The most difficult question
This morning at 8.27 my telephone rang, waking me. I could not get to it in time. I missed the call. I did not recognise the number.
At 10.00 I redialed the number and before I had time to speak a childs voice said: "Daddy". That was all, nothing more, just "Daddy".
I was thrown into confusion, I was thrown back in time. My mind filled with the image of a four year old child, walking through a meadow high above the river Dart. A four year old child who asked: "Are you my daddy?" The easiest question to answer but hardest question to be asked.
At 10.00 I redialed the number and before I had time to speak a childs voice said: "Daddy". That was all, nothing more, just "Daddy".
I was thrown into confusion, I was thrown back in time. My mind filled with the image of a four year old child, walking through a meadow high above the river Dart. A four year old child who asked: "Are you my daddy?" The easiest question to answer but hardest question to be asked.
This morning all I could say to that child was "I'm sorry".
"I'm not your daddy. I'm sorry."
"I'm not your daddy. I'm sorry."
Essential listening
http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/console/b00mj7nc
Don Letts on Notting Hill/Ladbroke Grove. check it out.
Don Letts on Notting Hill/Ladbroke Grove. check it out.
Monday, 14 September 2009
Sunday, 13 September 2009
holiday romance
Baltimore, Ireland. 1970
We talked of red roses
we talked of sorrento
while the other kids drank to their pledge
We walked to the beacon
then out at the beacon
held hands and then
went to the edge
she told me she loved me
I told her my fears
we talked of red roses
we talked of Sorrento
Her name was Penelope
the same as my sister
which smacked of incest
each time that I kissed her
On the well rounded bottom
of an overturned inflatable
and all was in reach
but how far was debatable
down there
down on the beach
Under a mans checked shirt
we talked of red roses
we talked of sorrento
we parted agreeing no contact was best
On a postcard weeks later
she wrote of red roses
she wrote of sorrento
she wrote of red roses on a card from sorrento
Without a return address.
We talked of red roses
we talked of sorrento
while the other kids drank to their pledge
We walked to the beacon
then out at the beacon
held hands and then
went to the edge
she told me she loved me
I told her my fears
we talked of red roses
we talked of Sorrento
Her name was Penelope
the same as my sister
which smacked of incest
each time that I kissed her
On the well rounded bottom
of an overturned inflatable
and all was in reach
but how far was debatable
down there
down on the beach
Under a mans checked shirt
we talked of red roses
we talked of sorrento
we parted agreeing no contact was best
On a postcard weeks later
she wrote of red roses
she wrote of sorrento
she wrote of red roses on a card from sorrento
Without a return address.
Saturday, 12 September 2009
Another Event
It doesn't seem like ten minutes since the last one but we are at it again.
Tabernacle, Notting Hill this time, tomorrow night. come and see. should be interesting.
I think tristan is going to be in a bright place.
Tabernacle, Notting Hill this time, tomorrow night. come and see. should be interesting.
I think tristan is going to be in a bright place.
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Thursday, 10 September 2009
Lyric for a punk jesus christ superstar
Gabba gabba ho sanna
gabba gabba hey sanna
Gabba gabba sannah sannah ho
Gabba gabba sanna hey sanna
Gabba gabba hosanna
Is it true nancy
that you died for me
Gabba hey
Gabba ho superstar.
Tell the clash to be quiet
I anticipate white riot
this common crowd
Is far too loud...etc
gabba gabba hey sanna
Gabba gabba sannah sannah ho
Gabba gabba sanna hey sanna
Gabba gabba hosanna
Is it true nancy
that you died for me
Gabba hey
Gabba ho superstar.
Tell the clash to be quiet
I anticipate white riot
this common crowd
Is far too loud...etc
gosh thats hard work. Tim Rice really earned his squillions.
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