Did you watch it? It’s been called the most remarkable documentary series ever made and 70 Up is supposedly the last time we’ll touch base with the 14 children who took part in the original Seven Up. I think I first got hooked watching the second documentary in 1970. I’m only four years younger than the children who took part in the original documentary, so very much of the same era, and you can’t help but compare how your life has turned out compared to theirs.
It started out as an examination of the class system and how children who attend elite private schools (confusingly called public schools in the UK) are likely to fare better in life, but over the decades it became so much more – an exercise in social history by following 14 individual lives. Reality television is omnipresent in the 21st century but back in 1964 this was called a documentary and over the decades we’ve come to realise it was the first time we got to delve into real people’s lives over time, and human nature being as it is, we loved it.
Michael Apted
Sadly two of the original children have now died, as has the film-maker, Michael Apted, but it was highly likely that that might happen over a 63 year period. It was thought the series would die with Michael, but after ITV was contacted by Nicholas Hitchon (a participant who had terminal cancer), it was decided to make one more series called 70 Up. No-one has actually come out and said why it is finishing, but I think it’s implicit that no-one wants to carry on filming them aging, losing partners, becoming infirm and passing away.
Only 13 of the original children carried on after age 21 – can you match them?
I have actually been working my way through the archived series on ITVX over the last month and am nearly finished. When I do I will rewatch the 70 Up episodes that aired in September. If you have watched it, who do you identify with most? I think I’m a combination of the boys from the Liverpool comprehensive and Nicholas who came from the Yorkshire dales. If you’ve followed this blog for some time you’ll know why, as I’ve kind of told the story of my life by sharing the songs that go with it.
Five of the original children went to private schools, which I definitely did not, but neither did I live in the working class East End of London (four of them) or live in a children’s home (two of them). Like the three I mentioned above, I did go to University but like Neil I have suffered from anxiety over the years and probably never fulfilled my potential because of it, BUT, I have on the whole had a very nice life with supportive parents, close friends, a soulmate husband and daughter to be proud of. At “remuneration age” (I still can’t bring myself to name it properly) I’m quite happy with my lot, as it seemed were all the participants in 70 Up, so that was nice to see. If we’re spared, more adventures beckon, but maybe not another trip to Rome in the heat of summer (reference to last weekend’s post)!
A photo gallery showing the pop persons I would have been listening to, all seven years apart, starting with Petula Clark in 1967 (when I was seven) to Wham! finally reaching the No. 1 spot in 2023 (when I was 63). We would all have different photos, but fun to look back and remember.
It was interesting, revisiting the original documentary, to see that most of the children at age seven were chatty, animated and full of fun, sadly something that is often knocked out of us as we get older. It certainly was the case for some of them. At the start of every new documentary the phrase, “Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man” is quoted, which was the original premise. In just about all the cases that came to pass, and I found it interesting that the five children who went to private school all married only once and have stayed married. Something to do with financial security I imagine and marrying later. Of the other nine children, only three have stayed married for the duration. The cheekiest chap amongst them all was “artful dodger” Tony from the East End of London. I think Michael had preconceptions of how his life would turn out, but Tony proved him wrong, at one point owning two homes, and being a regular at the stables and golf club. If it is over for good, I will miss them.
I’ve covered a lot, but no song yet. One that comes to mind is one about a different journey through someone’s life. Frank Sinatra was the master of “phrasing” (how a musician shapes a sequence of notes in a passage of music in order to express an emotion or impression). I do believe that with, It Was A Very Good Year, he does that with bells on.
It Was A Very Good Year by Frank Sinatra:
Until next time…
It Was a Very Good Year Lyrics (Song by Ervin Drake)
When I was seventeen, it was a very good year It was a very good year for small town girls And soft summer nights We’d hide from the lights On the village green When I was seventeen
When I was twenty-one, it was a very good year It was a very good year for city girls Who lived up the stairs With all that perfumed hair That came undone When I was twenty-one
When I was thirty-five, it was a very good year It was a very good year for blue-blooded girls Of independent means We’d ride in limousines Their chauffeurs would drive When I was thirty-five
But now the days are short, I’m in the autumn of the years And now I think of my life as vintage wine From fine old kegs From the brim to the dregs It poured sweet and clear It was a very good year
Postscript
“Give me a child until he is seven and I will give you the man” – just for the record, this is a photo of my good self in 1967 when I was aged seven. (Don’t laugh at the fringe, we all had short hair like that in 1967.) Can those of you who know me see the older me in that child? I was a happy, bookish child at that age and a terrible giggler – already fascinated by Top of the Pops and The Eurovision Song Contest.
Anyone who read my last post about our trip to Rome, would have noticed I was a bit negative about it. So much so I had to return later and add a postscript sharing all the good things about the city. That now done, I’ll finish off this two-parter about our Italian adventure by sharing some pictures from our time in Sorrento.
The view of Vesuvius from our balcony – not smoke, cloud!
Like in Rome it was again very hot, and this being my first foray to the Mediterranean since my brush with skin cancer, I can no longer be the cavalier sunbather I used to be in my youth. Makes life a bit more challenging but at my age I’m not likely to be wearing anything too skimpy or revealing anyway, so not as bad as it could have been. Talking of skimpy and revealing clothing, I was envious of all the young, tanned, long-legged girls in their shorts. They look fantastic and have their whole lives ahead of them but, as Mr WIAA reminded me, that used to be me and my friends (minus the long-legs) so time for the younger generation to have their time in the sun (literally and figuratively).
Travelling to Sorrento from Rome had been organised for us by the company who put our trip together, and it went very smoothly indeed. A First Class ticket for Italia Railways meant we were whisked south at great speed, and we were picked up in Naples by the lovely Martina in her smart, black, air-conditioned car. She had fun choosing music for us on the journey to Sorrento as she was a great fan of British and American songs from every decade (bit like this blog). It was appreciated.
Our space-age looking trainThe Amalfi Coast
We only had five nights in Sorrento so technically only four full days which in retrospect wasn’t enough. I had already booked an excursion to Pompeii before we left home and we planned to buy tickets for a trip to Amalfi for another day so time had to be well spent. The swimming pool and gardens at the hotel were top notch and we both loved being in the cool water. The pool area was also remarkably quiet so we often had the whole place to ourselves, but time was short, so every day we walked the 20 minutes into the town centre to check out the bars, restaurants and shops in the Old Town. We fitted a lot into our short time and here are some of the pictures that prove it – Pompeii, Positano, Amalfi, another wedding, tourist shops, lunch, Vesuvius and Naples at night.
A surprising highlight of our time in Sorrento was stumbling across an exhibition of Sophia Loren photographs. The curator was British and was very knowledgeable about the star and her life. Sofia Scicolone (the Sophia Loren moniker came later) was brought up in a village on the Bay of Naples and one of her first films was quite racy for the times. Scandal In Sorrento from 1955 is a romantic comedy set right where we were. Donna Sofia (played by Sophia) plays an attractive fishmonger who is in love with Nicolino, a fisherman. True love never runs smoothly however and as is common in a rom-com there are many twists and turns before the pair end up together. I’ve found the full film on YouTube so plan to watch it soon. She certainly was one stunning lady and is still with us at the age of 92. If you look at the limoncello cart wedding photo in the gallery above, you might just spot Sophia (along with The Great Caruso) in the background – it looks like graffiti but the artist is apparently the Italian Banksy.
Sophia Loren in Scandal In Sorrento
Am I doing ok so far? Nothing negative at all yet which is a tad different to my post about Rome. The only downside to the second leg of our trip was the food at our hotel. In their wisdom, the company who organised it must have looked at our ages and decided to place us in a hotel which is predominantly filled with retired British holiday-makers. Nothing wrong with that except many of them were quite infirm and came into the dining room with sticks and walking frames which sometimes made it feel like a care home (and probably why we had the pool to ourselves). Dinner was included in our package which I thought would be fine but again it was organised like in my mum’s care home where you had to make your menu choice at breakfast and always sit at the same table which correlated to your room number. You had to be there at 7pm sharp which is early for Italy and you had to be speedy, as the plates were always cleared by 8pm. Sadly it was British-style food in small portions but there was a lovely lounge and outdoor garden to sit in afterwards.
The hotel’s garden
For our last night we decided to eschew dinner at our hotel and head into the Old Town. I’m really glad we did as it was Saturday night and a lot of locals also came out to play. We found a nice taverna, had a lovely meal and were treated to a chap with a keyboard serenading us in the background. The songs tended to be well-known international hits but then he went rogue and, mainly for the locals I think, launched into Quando, Quando, Quando followed by Volare and That’s Amore. Everyone sang along, at full volume, then unbelievably he ended his quartet of songs with a version of Tom Jones‘, Delilah. Always a crowd pleaser at a big event in the UK but apparently in Italy too. Here is the Italian trio Il Volo singing it in a massive arena in Verona.
An alternative version of Delilah by The Sensational Alex Harvey Band:
So, “What’s It All About?” – It was always supposed to be an adventure as opposed to a relaxing holiday and I think we achieved that. Rome has some of the most impressive “sights” in the world and once you travel to the Bay of Naples and Amalfi Coast, the villages and towns are just gorgeous. It was hot, and again busy, but we expected that. Other than the dinners, our hotel in Sorrento was lovely. I think we had the best room in the place and the staff were very friendly. If I was travelling to Italy again I would choose a later month when it hopefully wouldn’t be as hot, and perhaps stay in the same place for at least a week to fully explore. For the foreseeable future, however, I think we’ll be staying at home!
A Sorrento sunset on our last night
Until next time…
Delilah Lyrics (Song by Barry Mason/Les Reed)
I saw the light on the night that I passed by her window I saw the flickering shadows of love on her blind She was my woman As she deceived me I watched and went out of my mind
My, my, my Delilah Why, why, why, Delilah? I could see, that girl was no good for me But I was lost like a slave that no man could free
At break of day when that man drove away I was waiting I crossed the street to her house and she opened the door She stood there laughing I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more
My, my, my Delilah Why, why, why, Delilah? So before they come to break down the door Forgive me, Delilah, I just couldn’t take any more
She stood there laughing I felt the knife in my hand and she laughed no more
My, my, my Delilah Why, why, why, Delilah? So before they come to break down the door Forgive me, Delilah, I just couldn’t take any more
Forgive me, Delilah, I just couldn’t take any more
Postscript
It was hot and humid during the day which meant we were treated to some spectacular storms during the night. By morning the streets were dry again.
Well, it was supposed to be The Big One. After a summer of enjoying all sorts of new adventures (stadium concerts, music festivals), trips around the country visiting friends and the usual activities we get up to in our own back yard, our Italian adventure was the one we had invested most into (both financially and in preparedness). We were expecting this:
Or for the younger generation this:
Emily In Paris relocates to Rome
But as tourists before us have discovered, what we see on the screen no longer reflects the reality.
Don’t get me wrong, I know I am privileged to have been able to make this trip but perhaps because we haven’t done much travelling outside the UK for a long time, and certainly not to Mediterranean countries, it was a bit of a shock to the system.
First of all, hats off to my blogging buddies in England who had to endure temperatures in the mid-30s this summer. Luckily we avoided that heatwave in Scotland so it was a bit of a shock to discover that even in September, Italy was still experiencing one. We had four nights in Rome so we pretty much visited all the tourist hotspots, and very impressive they were too, but even making use of the metro system we still found we were racking up 20 thousand steps per day. For a couple of Highlanders that was pretty good going in the heat and humidity. Here are some of my best photos:
The “real” Spanish Steps
The “real” Spanish Steps not quite so attractive as the ones in the films!
When you look back at the photos afterwards you remember the best bits of a trip but of course you can’t see the heat, the queues or the street vendors selling tat. The hotel we stayed in was air-conditioned, and the breakfasts were delicious, but once you venture out, 21st century Rome is very dirty with overflowing bins and graffiti everywhere. The locals are fed up of tourists swamping their city so come across as very rude and unbelievably, the food wasn’t that great. Maybe we chose badly but menus are complicated meaning you have to choose a pasta dish first then a meat dish but both are very plain and nothing to write home about. Even the gelato was no better than our own ice-cream shops at home (ironically set up by Italians). Also, there is no tipping system in Italy as the waiters are paid a decent wage and they know there is a never-ending supply of tourists, so the service was shabby to say the least. We had to change restaurant every night as we thought we’d pissed off the waiter so much the night before with our limited Italian and odd menu choices.
As for music, we didn’t hear any over the duration of our stay in Rome bar for tuning in to Radio 2’s Sounds Of The Sixties on my iPhone, and one of the first songs we heard was, blow me down, Matt Monro singing On Days Like These from The Italian Job. That is one of Mr WIAA’s favourite films and he especially loves this song, Getta Bloomin’ Move On! (The Self Preservation Society), by Don Black and Quincy Jones.
Yes, watching that film as a youngster in the ’60s would have had you yearning for a trip to Italy but things have changed and although I’m glad we did it (as it was one of a few European capitals I’ve not visited), it’s a bit of an endurance test nowadays. I think we’d have enjoyed it better if we’d gone later in the year when the heat had died down and it was less busy, but the negative side to the city would still have been there. I did check out some reviews from fellow travellers about two days into our trip, just to make sure it wasn’t just us, and was pleased to see it wasn’t.
The She-Wolf with Romulus and Remus
Hope I haven’t put anyone off heading to Rome – hope I’ve just given you all a few pointers on what to expect and how to make it better. I’ve not recounted the tales of how I left my iPhone (with all our tickets) in a gelateria or how I slipped and fell coming out of the shower and was covered in bruises for the rest of the holiday, but maybe a bridge too far. I also seem to have used up all my words so will return next time with the story of our trip down to Sorrento – will be a lot more positive.
One thing is for sure though, I’ll not get Mr WIAA back on a plane in a hurry. He has always been the more adventurous of the two of us but four “travelling days” during an 11 day trip, high temperatures, crowds and being classed as an outsider in the EU of today just isn’t for him any more. I do think he’ll come round in time, especially if snow sports are involved, but for now it’s holidaying in the UK for him for the foreseeable. So much for the big post-retirement bucket-list of adventures.
Until next time… arrivederci.
Getta Bloomin’ Move On! (The Self Preservation Society) Lyrics (Song by Don Black/Quincy Jones)
This is the self-preservation society, This is the self-preservation society Go wash your German bands, your boat race too Comb your barnet, fair we’ve got alot to do Put on your dickie dirt and your peckham rye ‘Cause time’s soon hurrying by Get your skates on mate Get your skates on mate No bib around your Gregory Peck today, eh?
Drop your plates of meat right up on the seat This is the self-preservation society, This is the self-preservation society Gotta get a bloomin’ move on Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba Jump in the jam jar gonna get straight (Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba) Hurry up mate, gonna be late How’s your father? Tickety boo, tickety boo Gotta get a bloomin’ move on
The self-preservation society, This is the self-preservation society Jump in the jam jar gonna get straight (Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba) Hurry up mate, gonna be late How’s your father? Tickety boo, tickety boo Gotta get a bloomin’ move on Tickety boo, tickety boo Gotta get a bloomin’ move on Tickety boo, tickety boo Gotta get a bloomin’ move on
The self-preservation society, This is the self-preservation society Jump in the jam jar gonna get straight (Babadab-babadabadab-bab-ba) Hurry up mate, gonna be late How’s your father? Tickety boo, tickety boo
Postscript
I can tell from reading the comments that I have perhaps focused on the negative aspects of my trip to Rome and omitted the good stuff. As you can see from my photos we did a lot and most of it was very, very impressive. Here is a photo of me looking very happy in the Vatican City garden:
And here is a happy couple having their wedding photos taken in front of The Colosseum:
What was good:
The view from the breakfast room on the top floor of the hotel
The breakfasts – yum
The pizza we had the day we arrived and were very hungry
The sightseeing bus tour of the city
The Vatican Museums and Sistine Chapel
The walk into St Peter’s Square
The Swiss Guard uniforms
The Palatine Hill where the ruins of ancient Rome still stand
The man at the gelateria keeping my phone for me until I came back
The bruises looking worse than they were – I was lucky
Today is quite a big day for me and one I am strangely excited about. It’s not often that you celebrate getting older but when it comes with a monthly remuneration attached, not quite so bad. To be clear, it’s not my birthday, it’s just that anyone born after the 6th of April 1960 is part of the generation that will now miss getting their monthly remuneration at age 66. By 6th April 2028 everyone will have to be 67, but they’re doing it incrementally until then. To celebrate we’re going out for lunch with DD and Mr DD. She will no doubt be telling me all about the new album she purchased yesterday, Like A Virgin, by Madonna. It came out 10 years before she was born but she has a really good knowledge of older (to her) music, so much so that whilst on holiday recently she and Mr DD won the music quiz held one night in their hotel. They were up against teams of up to seven people of all ages. I was very proud!
But what else has been happening this week? We’re getting ready to go on our first big adventure post-“remuneration” (I can’t bring myself to say what it’s really called). Going on holiday used to be simple – just pack the kind of clothes you think you’ll need, some toiletries, money, your passport and you were set. Now everything is booked online so you need many, many apps, but you also need a photoshot of what’s on the app in case you can’t get a signal, and ideally a hard copy in case you run out of charge. Talking of which you need to make sure your phone will work abroad with the correct roaming settings and source an extra powerpack with connectors for the charge issue. Special front-facing, anti-theft bags have to be acquired to thwart sneaky pickpockets and multiple credit cards taken in case the one you usually use doesn’t work! Whatever happened to traveller’s cheques? Where am I going I hear you ask. Well here is a clue featuring one of Mr WIAA’s favourite songs and by the end of this post I’ll fill you in.
On Days Like These by Matt Monro:
Last time I wrote a tribute to Dolly Parton who very sadly passed away at the end of August. There was an awful lot of news coverage about her life and legacy in the days afterwards and it must have had an effect on the great British public as it was looking for a while as if she might finally make it to the No. 1 spot on the UK Singles Chart. But no, that was not to be, although she did reach the No. 5 and the No. 6 spots with 9 To 5 and Jolene respectively. Unbelievably the highest chart positions she ever reached.
So if Dolly isn’t No. 1, what is? After 23 weeks at the top spot, it is no longer Rein Me In by Sam and Olivia, it is this song, Choosin’ Texas, by Ella Langley. I wasn’t surprised as it’s been gradually creeping up the chart since January, but now, perhaps because so many of us have enjoyed hearing an abundance of country music courtesy of Dolly’s sad demise, it’s top dog. The song was written by Ella with help from Miranda Lambert amongst others, and is about the sting of watching someone choose the open road and the Lone Star State, over the relationship. Maybe I’m wrong but it feels like quite a while since someone who performs country music has topped the UK chart. It must have something to do with Dolly as not many of us on this side of the pond will ever have had to drink “jack” all on our own because our Texan, cowboy boyfriend just can’t cope with living in the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee.
But back to my forthcoming trip. As you will probably have guessed, I’m not going to Tennessee or Texas, but somewhere a lot closer to home, relatively speaking. Later on this week I’m heading to Rome for a few days after which we head down to Naples and then on to Sorrento for a more relaxing holiday. Troublingly, the weather there has been at heatwave levels for quite some time but it seems as soon as we arrive, the temperature is going to drop and it will rain for the following 10 days. In some ways that’s great for my fair Scottish skin but I get plenty of rain at home so I did hope for some blue skies. Long-range weather forecasts are notoriously inaccurate though, so cross-fingers we’ll get both the lower temperatures and less rain.
RomeSorrento
If anyone has been to either of these places, do let me know. You may have some hints and tips we’ve not discovered yet. Our trips to the Vatican and to Pompeii have already been booked and our attempts at picking up basic Italian phrases are going well (although Mr WIAA keeps mixing up his Italian with his Spanish). All being well I shall return here in two weeks with tales of our trip. As I’m not an expert in the pop music of Italy, I’m going to finish off with a clip of a band I had all but forgotten about. Way back in 1983, Roman Holiday had a hit with the song Don’t Try To Stop It. Very upbeat and jaunty – just the thing to listen to whilst getting the suitcases packed.
Until next time…
Choosin’ Texas Lyrics (Song by Ella Langley/Joybeth Taylor/Luke Dick/Miranda Lambert)
Just when I thought I got him to fall in love with Tennessee I shoulda known better than to take him back to Abilene I put him right back into her arms I wasn’t a match for that kinda spark
She’s from Texas, I can tell by the way He’s two steppin’ ’round the room And judgin’ by the smile that’s written on his face There’s nothin’ I can do It doesn’t take a crystal ball to see A cowboy always finds a way to leave Drinkin’ Jack all by myself He’s choosin’ Texas, I can tell
Well, I guess he forgot about the Smoky Mountain rain Them old Hank tunes, the Memphis blues we used to sing He always loved Amarillo By Morning I shoulda taken that as a warning
She’s from Texas, I can tell by the way He’s two steppin’ ’round the room And judgin’ by the smile that’s written on his face There’s nothin’ I can do It doesn’t take a crystal ball to see A cowboy always finds a way to leave Drinkin’ Jack all by myself He’s choosin’ Texas, I can tell
When I’m eastbound and down and I can’t help but cry ‘Cause I-40 gets lonelier with every mile I’ll know that his mind wasn’t ever gonna change ‘Cause his heart still belongs to the Lone Star State
She’s from Texas, I can tell by the way He’s two steppin’ ’round the room And judgin’ by the smile that’s written on his face There’s nothin’ I can do, nah, yeah It doesn’t take a crystal ball to see A cowboy always finds a way to leave Drinkin’ Jack all by myself He’s choosing Texas, I can tell, no Drinkin’ Jack all by myself He’s choosin’ Texas, I can tell
Come on, baby Oh, yeah Just when I thought I got him to fall in love with Tennessee
I’ve now had many days to process this one, but I still can’t quite come to terms with a world that no longer has Dolly Parton in it. We all know that many of the music stars of our youth are now on borrowed time, but when it came to, “Who might be next?” I just didn’t think it would be Dolly. Perhaps it was because she never seemed to age (she was happy to admit the minute anything sagged or drooped, she had it nipped and tucked), but also because she was such a glittering force of nature, it was inconceivable that something mortal, like cancer, could take her away from us. But no more of that, suffice to say I don’t think anyone will ever have the world lit up in pink again when they pass. She truly was one of a kind.
As for this blog, I can’t believe I haven’t yet added a category for Dolly on my sidebar as I have written about her no less than four times. Once this one is published I’ll rectify that glaring omission.
I think we all already know Dolly’s story, and if anyone didn’t they certainly will now after the news coverage her death has generated. Ironically I had just finished re-watching her documentary Here I Am on the BBC iPlayer a few days before she passed. I had the telly to myself for once and perhaps because she had recently issued a message to fans about how she’d had heath issues but was now healin’, it jumped out at me. When the news broke on social media about her death I assumed it was a fake story, used as clickbait, but once I switched on the news at 10pm it became very real.
Dolly in the 1970s and Dolly in the 2020s
What I’ve noticed from the news coverage is how much snobbery and rudeness she had to put up with in the early years of her career. The American broadcaster Barbara Walters, when interviewing her, told her she didn’t have to look like that. It’s a wonder Dolly didn’t sock her one. She was a Nashville country music star and if I’m not mistaken that was very much the look of choice for such stars back then, albeit Dolly possibly took it to extreme lengths with the big ’70s wigs. Dolly came from exceptionally humble beginnings and now was her chance to look glamorous, something she had always aspired to. If people like Barbara associated the look with being a dumb blonde, Dolly soon put them right. As she said at the time, she knew she wasn’t dumb and she also wasn’t blonde. In recent decades, although Dolly always poked fun at her appearance, I think she looked just right for the industry she was in – the make-up was a bit more subtle, the wigs a bit less flamboyant and the clothes less showy (although they still had their fair share of rhinestones). I can’t believe we’ll never see her on a chat show sofa again.
It’s hard to sum up the many talents and achievements of Dolly Parton so I’m not going to try. Instead I’m going to leave it to this lovely lady, Pink, who gave a beautiful speech when she was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame in 2022. Pink also performed Jolene with her, along with many other stars from the world of music (and Simon Le Bon). Dolly at this point was aged 76.
Jolene by Dolly Parton:
Although Dolly enjoyed a remarkable Billboard Chart career spanning almost five decades, she didn’t ever reach the No. 1 spot on either the Official UK Singles Chart or Official UK Albums Chart. What were we thinking? She came closest with the studio album Blue Smoke which was released around the time of her celebrated 2014 Glastonbury appearance. The UK version also included a “Best Of Dolly Parton” bonus disc which probably was the draw. It made the No. 2 spot on the Album Chart. Among her most enduring songs, Jolene was the only one to reach the Top 10 although that may change as both it and 9 To 5 have re-entered the Singles Chart as of yesterday.
9 To 5 by Dolly Parton:
Talking of 9 To 5, it came from the 1980 film of the same name and how bizarre that my last post around here was about a bunch of blonde, high-heeled secretaries who turned out to be a lot smarter than their male counterparts gave them credit for. That personal story was from the mid-1980s so maybe Dolly’s character in the film, Doralee, had given us the confidence to take on the men at their own game. To think I shared that a day before the news broke that she had died. Did I have a premonition?
But before I end there will have to be some more music. Over the last few days the songs most associated with her have been shared widely, but there have also been a few I wasn’t aware of before, that have made me smile. Her first single to reach the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Country Chart was Joshua, released in 1970. The song is about an adventurous young girl who dares to visit the little rundown shack of a rural recluse, who has a reputation for being mean and hostile. As it turns out she finds that he is quite the opposite and ends up living in his shack with him. A fun story song written by Dolly.
The next song, Little Sparrow, was the title track from one of the three bluegrass albums she recorded at the turn of the millennium. Dolly had continued to reinvent herself over the years and it made total sense for her to return to the kind of music that was very much part of her upbringing in the Great Smokey Mountains of East Tennessee. It’s a gentle beauty.
So, we are now living PD – post Dolly. I still can’t quite get my head round it. She is leaving behind so much however. All those songs, the films, her theme park, her Imagination Library and the Dollywood Foundation. Managed properly, her humanitarian work will continue for decades to come. Her husband of 60 years died only last year and despite never appearing with her at public events, they sound as if they were a very close couple. Tough to get over something like that and keep your health intact.
Until next time, a fitting picture from Lucy Claire Illustration. Dolly, you will be sorely missed.
Joshua Lyrics (Song by Dolly Parton)
Well a good ways down the railroad track There was this little old rundown shack And in it lived a man I’d never seen Folks said he was a mean and a vicious man And you better not set foot on his land I didn’t think nobody could be that mean
So I took me out walking down the railroad track I was a-gonna go down to that little old shack And just find out if all them things I’d heard was true There was a big black dog laying out in the yard And it growled at me and I swallowed hard And I heard somebody say well who are you
Oh and there he stood in the door of that shack His beard and his hair was long and black And he was the biggest man I’d ever seen When he spoke his voice was low and deep But he just didn’t frighten me ‘Cause somehow I just knew he wasn’t mean
He said what you doing snooping ’round my place And I saw a smile come across his face So I smiled back and I told him who I was He said come on in and pull you up a chair You might as well since you already here And he said you can call me Joshua
Joshua Joshua Whatcha doing living here all alone Joshua Joshua Ain’t you got nobody to call your own No no no no
We talked ’til the sun was clean out of sight And we still talking when it come daylight And there was just so much we had to say hey I’d spent my life in an orphan’s home And just like him I was all alone So I said yeah when he asked if I’d stay
Oh we grew closer as time went on And that little old shack it was a happy home And we just couldn’t help but fall in love That big black dog and that little old shack Sitting down by the railroad track It’s plenty good enough for me and Joshua
Joshua Joshua Why you’re just what I’ve been looking for Joshua Joshua You ain’t gonna be lonesome anymore No no
Yodel-a-he-ho
Me and Joshua Me and Joshua Me and Joshua yeah yeah Me and Joshua
I am puppy-sitting again and not at home in front of my computer where I do my blogging. I did however get an alert recently letting me know I had written this post 10 years ago, and did I want to share it again. As it wasn’t read by many people back then I am thinking, why not? It’s a fun story but rereading it I’m not sure if I would have used quite the same language if I’d written it today. Despite the fact I was writing about myself and my friends, it comes across as a tad sexist to my 2026 ears. It is a story from over 40 years ago so things were very much like that back then, but even over the last 10 years things have moved on yet again, which is a good thing, so our against the odds performance now doesn’t seem as remarkable. Anyway, let me know what you think and as you all know by now, I always reply!
First published 23rd of August 2016
At the end of 1984 I had just completed another set of very taxing exams (literally, as accountancy ones this time) and considering I had been doing this for nearly nine years now I decided I’d had enough. As I was living in Aberdeen at the time, the Oil Capital of Europe, work was plentiful so I decided a belated gap year was needed and off I went to register with the various recruitment agencies in order to pick up some temping work. With the recent drop in the oil price things are not as buoyant nowadays, but back then jobs were aplenty, and so it came to pass that at the start of 1985 I joined the ranks of one of the big five Oil Companies that had a headquarters in Aberdeen.
There is an irony to this situation however as there had always been a bit of a divide between the Town, Gown (quite a sizeable population) and Oil communities, and as part of the gown and then the town community (working in the public sector), my friends and I had always tended to snigger at all those glamorous “oil secretaries” who earned copious amounts of money for (we thought) not doing very much and who drove around in their rich boyfriends’ sports cars. We tended to stick to the bars of our student days, and our student uniforms of jeans and T-shirt.
The irony here is that in 1985 I morphed into an “oil secretary” (I wasn’t actually a secretary and would have been a rubbish one at that, but you know what I mean). I think we all have a tendency, like animals in nature, to adapt to our surroundings and that’s exactly what happened. Big hair and white high heels anyone? Yes please. After years of being a bit dismissive of the breed it turned out to be a fine life. The average age of our small department was 28 and although I hate to admit it, I think the “secretaries” were hired mainly as eye-candy as you didn’t really get many what you could call plain girls in that world. Anyway, fighting against my feminist principles, I totally got on board with the whole thing and soon became the person who organised all the social events for the department.
The cast of Dynasty with Crystal Carrington ex-stenographer!
I had been there for around six months when word got out that there was to be an Inter-Oil Company Pop Quiz which would be hosted by local Breakfast DJ Nicky Campbell in one of the city’s big nightspots. Now regular readers of this blog will know that this would be right up my street – I had recorded the Top 20 in notebooks since the age of thirteen and watched TOTP since I was a child. I was a bit rusty, but if I purchased the latest Guinness Book of Hit Singles, and memorised it, the whole thing should be a dawdle. As for the memorising of the Guinness Book of Hit Singles, not as difficult as you would think as this was the 1984 version and there had only been a chart since 1952 and back then there was only a Top 12. I remembered most of the music from the late ‘60s and all of the ‘70s anyway so it was just a case of brushing up on the ‘50s and some of the more recent stuff I was not so familiar with. And so I spent the next few weeks surreptitiously working my way through this tome, whilst at work, in between doing what I was paid to do. The pride of our department was at stake after all so none of our bosses, still in their twenties, were too bothered.
Step one was to enter a team from our department into the heats to determine who would represent our company at the main event. Tick. I was pretty confident we would do well but needed two others to make up the team so I recruited a couple of my fellow “secretary” friends to join me, lets call them Julie and Amanda (!?). I was aware their knowledge was a bit scant but really, like George Michael needed Andrew Ridgeley for support, I needed Julie and Amanda.
The heat took place on a Friday evening straight after work in the very lavish company sports and social club (no expense was spared in those days). By this time I had realised that the lads from The Print Room were the ones to beat. They were weekend DJs, played in bands and were very “cool” so when they heard that a team of blonde, high-heeled secretaries had entered it was all a bit of a joke. But hey I was having a year off studying, was afflicted with having a photographic memory for all this kind of stuff and if you get your timing right you can peak at just the right time then promptly forget it all again! (When I say affliction, it kind of is, because you end up getting better results than you perhaps deserve compared to more able students, as for some exams rote learning is all that is required).
Anyway, the upshot was that the in-house Pop Quiz to determine who would represent the company got underway. Waiting for our turn in the hot seat I was quietly confident, as most of the questions were relatively easy. Gradually we got through the stages as one by one departmental teams were eliminated. Then it came to the final round and yes you’ve guessed it, it was us against the cool dudes from The Print Room. The various rounds progressed, some individual questions, some quick-fire and a “name that tune” round complete with audio (not easy in those less technologically advanced days). My fellow team mates had upped their game as well, and were doing a sterling job.
By this time I could see that the lads were rattled – “How can this be happening to us”, I imagined them thinking. They were looking pale and sweat was glistening on their top lips. I can still remember the final three questions that clinched it for us:
1910 Fruitgum Company
Who had a hit with “Simon Says” in 1968? – Easy, The 1910 Fruitgum Co. (but not easy to find in an alphabetical list of artists).
Which band won the Eurovision Song Contest with A-Ba-Ni-Bi? – As a life-long fan of the contest that was also an easy one, it was Izhar Cohen and the Apha-Beta.
And here is where I was just so proud of my team-mate “Julie” – A lovely girl whom I am still in touch with today. The final question was a lyrics one and anyone following this blog will know that there lies my weakness. I don’t know what I’ve been doing all my life but it doesn’t seem to have been listening to lyrics properly! We were given a line from a recent song that had been a chart hit and although it meant nothing to me, it did to “Julie”, a big fan of Wham!.Yes the winning points came from her knowledge of the lyrics to Freedom, which had reached No. 1 in the charts the previous year.
So there we had it, the “secretaries” had won the quiz and would represent the company at the main event. The lads from The Print Room were furious although when you think of it, if they were as cool as they thought they were, they should have been pleased that they didn’t know about The 1910 Fruitgum Co., Eurovision and the complete works of Wham!, but it was the principle I think.
Yet again I have overrun on words so I will leave the story there for the moment and come back to it another day. I think the featured song for today however will have to be Freedom from 1984, a fun and camp record with apparently Abba-style cord changes. Every day’s a school day.
Freedom by Wham!:
I should also point out here that all my preconceptions about “oil secretaries” turned out to be unfounded as they were generally very smart girls who just happened to be very good-looking as well. The earlier dismissiveness was of course down to jealously, that ugly emotion that hits us all at certain times in our lives. Happy days and as I said before, I’m still in touch with some of the “team” today. A second bit of irony is that the song chosen here should be called Freedom as that was the year I split up with my long-term student boyfriend – George Michael didn’t want his freedom, but suddenly I did, and I think a lot of it was down to my short-lived time in the oil business!
Freedom Lyrics (Song by Simon Law/Caron Wheeler/Beresford Romeo/George Michael)
Everyday I hear a different story, People saying that you’re no good for me, “Saw your lover with another and she’s making a fool of you”
If you loved me baby you’d deny it, But you laugh and tell me I should try it, Tell me I’m a baby, and I don’t understand
But you know that I’ll forgive you, Just this once, twice, forever, ‘Cause baby, you could drag me to hell and back, Just as long as we’re together. And you do
I don’t want your freedom, I don’t want to play around, I don’t want nobody baby, Part time love just brings me down. I don’t want your freedom, Girl, all I want right now is you.
Like a prisoner who has his own key But I can’t escape until you love me I just go from day to day knowing all about the other boys You take my hand and tell me I’m a fool to give you all that I do I bet you someday baby someone says the same to you But you know that I’ll forgive you Just this once twice forever ’cause baby, you could drag me to hell and back Just as long as we’re together And you do
I’ve had the busiest of summers, the busiest since starting this blog but as of now I have four straight weeks at home until the next big adventure. Looking forward to it as I do like my usual routine and it has been supremely compromised of late, in a good way of course.
Last time I wrote about my first trip to a music festival, held on a farm. This week I went to the biggest arts festival in the world, held right in the centre of our capital city, Edinburgh. We’ve now done this three years in a row – headed down early in the morning, met our friends, had a nice lunch, taken in two shows and a few street performances, then headed home in the evening. To stay over in Edinburgh during the festival is nigh impossible nowadays due to the high cost of accommodation and the fact it’s booked up years in advance. Shame for all the performers as they are now being priced out of coming, and have to bunk up with many others or worse still camp, but Edinburgh is often where they start out and a good run there could lead to great things down the line. The Edinburgh Fringe Festival has given many stars their big break, including Alan Rickman, Richard Gadd, Steve Coogan (debuting Alan Partridge), Phoebe Waller Bridge (Fleabag)and Lee Mack.
Audience participation on Victoria Street
The first show we went to see was called CSI: Crime Scene Improvisation where the cast have to make everything up on the spot based on suggestions from the audience. They have to be quick-thinking indeed, and we do eventually end up with a killer, but every show is different so it must be fairly exhausting to perform. The second show was by a satirical comedian called, Michael Spicer. I hadn’t heard of him before although he seems to have won many awards for his video series, The Room Next Door. Very funny indeed and of all the shows we’ve seen over the last three years I decided his was the one I enjoyed the most.
Michael Spicer
As for the castle I visited this week, it was the one that starred in the first season of the hit television drama Outlander, which I’ve written about here several times (there is even a category for it on my sidebar). I go for a walk every Friday with my lovely friend Eve, and every summer we have a bit of a jolly and do something touristy in our own back yard. Castle Leod is only about 15 miles from home and not often open to the public, so this week we grabbed the chance to visit, when it did just that.
Although the castle was the setting for the Outlander scenes featuring the Clan MacKenzie, for logistical purposes it seems the filming took place elsewhere, but if you’ve watched the series you’ll know how it all fits in to the drama. You’ll also know that the theme song makes use of the music to the Skye Boat Song, which was given a 21st century makeover by Bear McCreary. The lyrics, taken from the Robert Louis Stevenson poem, Sing Me a Song of a Lad That Is Gone, were adapted to fit the storyline and are performed by Raya Yarbrough. Outlander has developed a cult following and no doubt many visitors to the castle are fans. It’s an unusual wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey, historical-romance drama where the female lead, an Irishwoman, plays a very convincing Englishwoman and the male lead, a Scotsman, plays a very unconvincing Scotsman (sorry Sam, but it seems your natural Scottish accent was just a bit too soft and formal for playing an 18th century Jacobite).
Castle Leod in Ross-shire
As ever I get side-tracked by what I’ve been up to since last week, but I do have a very music-centred topic I want to discuss this time. If you follow this blog you will know that I’ve started following the UK Singles Chart again after many years of abstinence, as I had lost track of who all the runners and riders were. I’m now much more informed about the current crop of successful artists (in terms of sales/downloads/streams) so this year I promised to update you all on who was at the No. 1 spot whenever it changed, as I know few people of my vintage follow such things nowadays.
Little did I know back in January that 2026 would prove to be a most unusual year with the song currently at the No. 1 spot having now been there for a record-breaking 21 weeks. First it broke the 15 week record set by Wet, Wet, Wet back in 1994, then the 16 week record set by Bryan Adams in 1991 and finally the 18 week record set by Frankie Laine way back in 1953, when the chart was still in its infancy. I’m talking of course about Rein Me In, the song by Sam Fender, recorded as a collaboration with Olivia Dean last year. I’ve shared it around here before but I probably need to share it again, in case you don’t know it.
Rein Me In by Sam Fender and Olivia Dean:
I read an interesting article this week about how it would have been inconceivable back in the days of Top Of The Pops, that so many people in the UK seem not to have ever heard this record-breaking song (see the comments on the YouTube version of the clip). The “Monoculture”, defined as the concept of a shared cultural experience among the masses, through listening to the same songs on the radio, watching the same films or television channels, seems to have ended in the early 21st century, due to the rise of streaming media and the fracturing of popular culture. I know we were all talking about Debbie Harry the next day at school after seeing her on TOTP in 1978, and then there was the whole frenzy over who shot JR, on Dallas in 1980.
I think that’s why I like writing this blog, as by revisiting the tracks of my years (predominantly songs from the ’60s, ’70s and ’80s), I know there are a lot of people out there of my age who will have very similar memories of those times. When I still went to work every day, I enjoyed comparing notes with people about what they’d watched on telly the night before, but latterly it was really hard to find someone who had watched the same thing at the same time. Nowadays, DD rarely even goes into the office, choosing to work from home instead so even less opportunity for that shared experience. Yes, we have so much more choice nowadays and so many songs instantly at our disposal but I do miss the days of less choice and a more unifying experience.
Until next time…
Rein Me In Lyrics (Song by Sam Fender)
I let go of everythin’ I ever had ‘Cause I couldn’t give the love you deserved By The Gunner, you shouted, “Oh, my God” It seemed churlish, but it’s what I was owed, I suppose
Every flagstone of this town bears our prints And all the bars ’round here serve my ghosts and carcasses I wish I knew these things when I was young ‘Cause now I’ve just gone so numb
We take whatever we can to get the reason back So, please, don’t rein me in Don’t rein me in Please, don’t rein me in
I’m workin’ myself up to a nice, warm bliss All my memories of you ring like tinnitus If I stop, it’s just pain Please, don’t rein me in
There’s nothin’ brave in walkin’ alone Love in exile has nowhere to go, so come on home Mm-mm, don’t run away from my tenderness You’re so afraid of that heart inside of your chest
We were doin’ so well, but you were scared to be held Took the easiest way out I see the tears of a man too proud to reach for a hand Oh, let my love keep you safe now
So, please don’t Don’t rein me in Please, don’t rein me in
Now I’m working myself up to a nice, warm bliss All my memories of you ring like tinnitus If I stop, it’s just pain Please, don’t rein me in
And I’m, I’m stood here chewin’ everyone’s lugs off Telling everybody how much I – it up Telling everybody how much I – it up Telling everybody but you, how much I – it up
Slow down (don’t rein me in) Slow down (don’t rein me in) Don’t
And I’m workin’ myself up to a nice, warm bliss All my memories of you ring like tinnitus If I stop, it’s just pain Please, don’t rein me in
Now I’m workin’ myself up to a nice, warm bliss (workin’ myself) All my memories of you ring like tinnitus (my memories of you) If I stop, it’s just pain Please, don’t rein me in
I’ve written about our local music festival around here many times, despite never having experienced it for myself. I’ve dropped DD and her friends off, picked them up, and washed the mud off their wellies, but have always dithered, and never quite got round to buying tickets. At first (it’s been going since 2004) I thought such festivals were for young people and for those who don’t mind camping in a muddy field for a weekend, but over the years I’ve discovered that all ages congregate at Belladrum during the last weekend in July, and blow me down, you don’t even have to camp as there is a shuttle bus that goes back and forth from the town centre. You can even buy a day ticket nowadays, so this year, the year I’m desperately trying to tick things off the bucket list before I get any older, I did just that. The day I chose was the Friday as that was the day when The Human League were going to be headlining on the big stage. They definitely didn’t disappoint.
But first, a little bit of background to The Tartan Heart Festival. Although about a tenth of the size (up to 25,000 capacity), it’s become known as the Scottish Glastonbury, and I can see why. It’s held on a farm in the middle of the countryside and as well as featuring music, there are also all sorts of artsy things that go on in the various upcycled farm buildings and pop-up venues – poetry reading, cinema, comedy, circus skills and so on. It’s also very family friendly with lots of activities for kids and special camping areas set away from the boozy youngsters! We never get the really big names of course, but we are on the circuit for all those artists who are doing the current year’s round of festivals. It’s also a great venue for local and traditional Scottish bands.
The countryside where it all takes place
And so it came to pass that Mr WIAA and myself got up early last Friday and as if preparing for a military campaign, packed all the things we thought might be useful for a long day at an outdoor festival. Layers of clothing complete with wet weather gear (as it turned out we were lucky with only two short showers the whole day), pop-up chairs (essential for oldies like us), paperwork for the bus and venue (no phone signal out there) and plenty of hand sanitiser and tissues (just in case the toilets were less than ideal – they were ok actually).
It’s only 7.6 miles door to door so we just had to walk down the hill from our house and catch the bus from our local stop. The drive through the countryside is beautiful at this time of year but of course double decker buses are not a common sight on such lanes so if you’re at the front on the top deck (as we were), it’s a bit scary to see solid tree foliage heading towards you, but both the bus and the trees survived I’m glad to say.
We got there well before 11am and some of the campers were just getting up so the fields were still quite empty. I was amazed to see a pop-up Co-op supermarket near the entrance full of all the essentials needed by festival goers. The fact we both had our Co-op membership cards with us proved very useful later in the day but I’ll come to that in a bit. DD advised that we would need a lanyard which would guide us to what was going on throughout the day, so after a coffee we set about acquiring one. Seasoned festival goers will know about such things but as newbies we needed all the advice we could get. It was time for a proper walk around the entire venue so we could get our bearings on where all nine stages were, and what else was on offer (the food options were amazing).
It was reassuring to see that all ages were represented and who knew that hippies still walk amongst us! There were plenty of people there who looked as if they “dropped out” many decades ago and good for them. Their clothes and hair styles were a dead giveaway and very different from the outfit of choice for teenage girls this year. The spray tan centres in town must have run out of product, as they all seemed to have skimpy shorts, orange legs and cowboy boots. I was tut-tutting at the skimpiness of the shorts, but hey, I was being a “mum” and I might well have worn the same had I been their age.
The Tartan Heart logo
But this is a music blog so where is the music I hear you ask. At midday the acts started to appear so first we caught a couple (Fiddle Forte and Devin Casson) in the Grassroots tent then ventured out to get some lunch. Mr WIAA met some yoga friends who were holding a class in one of the tents and I met an old work friend whose daughter was getting married in the temple later in the afternoon (there are a few weddings held every year). For the afternoon we planned to see Colonel Mustard and the Dijon 5 on the main stage and then Out Of The Blue (a celebration of Joni Mitchell) at The Ice House.
It’s a bit difficult to describe the Colonel Mustard outfit from Glasgow, and this clip is really tame but I can’t find a decent one of them in action. Suffice to say everyone headed to the main stage for their set (they are regulars at the festival) and there was much audience participation when they sang their songs, Cross The Road and Bouncy Ball. This is how they describe themselves: We are the shiny disco ball hat wearing, ultimate genre hopping, twisted festival, live stage machine that puts the emphasis on music, entertaining and laughter. We are a party at its most outrageous and ridiculous.
We then got to The Ice House just in time to watch the Joni Mitchell tribute band and were treated to many of her songs starting with Big Yellow Taxi. Most of the audience looked as if they had been around during her heyday, so we fitted right in.
Out Of The Blue
After that we met up with my friend again in the area cordoned off for wedding guests having cake and champagne. The ceremony had already taken place, so they were having some down time before heading off to enjoy the rest of the festival. The friend was a little tipsy by this time so we left them to it and headed off to find something tasty to eat to set us up for the evening ahead. The sun had even come out so it was all good at Belladrum.
The Wedding Temple
I mentioned earlier that we had our Co-op membership cards with us and as luck would have it there was a partially covered area next to the bar at the main stage, set aside for anyone carrying such a card. I don’t think many people knew about it or maybe the youngsters just wanted to be nearer the stage but it was perfect for us oldies who had their chairs with them, so we could have a drink and a sit-down between the acts. It was also a little higher up so you could look down on the stage without anyone’s head getting in the way. There was a slight problem in that you couldn’t see all the acts you would have liked as they coincided with each other on another stage, but it seemed the Hothouse Stage was the place to be.
First of all we had Scouting for Girls who came on at 6.25pm, then we had Rizzle Kicks at 8.05pm and finally, the one I was waiting for, The Human League at 9.45pm. Like at the Take That concert, I didn’t want to spend my time taking bad photos rather than watch the bands, but I did get a few shots which I’ll share here.
It seems that to do well at a live festival you have to be able to add a little banter between songs and both Roy Stride from Scouting For Girls and Jordan Stephens from Rizzle Kicks were really good at that. I enjoyed both bands and got a real surprise with Rizzle Kicks – they have lots of horns in their band so unlike most hip-hop outfits they have a very distinctive sound. They first found success in the early 2010s but after having gone off to do other things for eight years, they are back performing again. The girls next to us in our little area were obviously big fans so they knew they would finish with this song, Down with the Trumpets.
I did a bit of reading up about them when I got home and was surprised to learn that Jordan is the grandson of one of The Boulting Brothers, those English filmmakers who became known for their 1950s satirical comedies such as Lucky Jim and I’m Alright Jack. Every day’s a school day.
After a bit of a sit down and a drink it was time for The Human League to come on. It gets dark later up in the north of Scotland but dusk was approaching, always the best time for an outdoor concert to start. What can I say, they were absolutely fantastic. Phil was in fine voice and changed his outfit no less than seven times during their hour and a quarter set. The two girls, Joanne and Susan, emergency recruited for a tour way back in 1980 are still with him, and that is all you need really to recreate those synth-pop songs they became so famous for. They played all the hits starting off with Sound Of The Crowd and ending with Don’t You Want Me (obviously). I didn’t know Mr WIAA back in the early ’80s and was amazed that he knew all the words to all the songs, but he was at art school then and synth-pop was big with his fellow students. There is no footage yet of our festival but having watched a few other clips it seems they’ve been doing the same set for a couple of years now so plenty out there. There is quite a preamble in both these clips with Phil not coming on until 2:00 – just enough time to change outfits (yet again!).
Sound Of The Crowd by Human League:
Don’t You Want Me by Human League:
Phil is aged 70 now but he certainly still has plenty of energy and traversed the stage continually from left to right. He still looks really “cool” and the outfits could have belonged to David Bowie with the occasional bit of headgear taken from the Pet Shop Boys closet. I loved it and had a big smile on my face for the duration. Mr WIAA, who has never been a fan of concerts or festivals (his middle-aged bladder being a worry) has decided we should now go every year, but maybe not to camp.
It was fully dark by the time The Human League finished their set (which thankfully did include my favourite song of theirs, Louise) so rather than stay late for the last act we decided to head for the bus home. About eight double-deckers were waiting at the PUDO area so it was all very well organised and we got home in no time. I again was acting as a mum and felt very sorry for some of the teenagers who were deemed too drunk to get on the buses. Their mums would be getting very worried soon if no-one helped them out, but there is a welfare team there who hopefully did.
So, “What’s It All About?” – I just dipped my toe in the water really but my first experience of a festival was very positive and all being well I think we’ll try and go again next year. It’s so close to home it would be ridiculous not to really.
Until next time…
Don’t You Want Me Lyrics (Song by Jo Callis/Philip Oakey/Philip Adrian Wright)
You were working as a waitress in a cocktail bar When I met you I picked you out, I shook you up And turned you around Turned you into someone new Now five years later on you’ve got the world at your feet Success has been so easy for you But don’t forget it’s me who put you where you are now And I can put you back down too
Don’t. Don’t you want me? You know I can’t believe it when I hear that you won’t see me Don’t. Don’t you want me? You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me
It’s much too late to find When you think you’ve changed your mind You’d better change it back or we will both be sorry
Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh! Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh!
I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar That much is true But even then I knew I’d find a much better place Either with or without you The five years we have had have been such good at times I still love you But now I think it’s time I live my life on my own I guess it’s just what I must do
Don’t. Don’t you want me? You know I can’t believe it when I hear that you won’t see me Don’t. Don’t you want me? You know I don’t believe you when you say that you don’t need me
It’s much too late to find When you think you’ve changed your mind You’d better change it back or we will both be sorry
Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh! Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh!
Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh! Don’t you want me, baby? Don’t you want me? Oh!
Last time I wrote about my trip to Inverclyde, but since then I’ve had trips to Fife and Aberdeen, met up with lots of old friends, watched a World Cup Final and a Commonwealth Games Opening Ceremony, witnessed the appointment of the seventh PM in 10 years and finally, I am watching in disbelief, as our local Cairngorms National Park has a fire burning out of control, and villages are being evacuated.
As for a topic to write about, the less said about that World Cup Final the better (a horrible, dirty match with a ridiculous “pop concert” in the middle) and as I’ve written about trips to Fife and Aberdeen before I won’t go there either. I’ve given up on writing about politics (how long will the latest incumbent last?) and I can only hope the wind dies down and the fires south of us can be extinguished soon.
Fortunately Spain won, but it wasn’t looking good for a while!
Something new we did do when away, was make full use of our National Trust for Scotland membership cards, a thoughtful Christmas present from DD that last a whole year. This week we managed to take in three castles not far from Aberdeen, an area known as Castle Country, and last week we visited Falkland in Fife, a gorgeous little village with a whopping big 16th century “palace” at it’s centre. It was built by James V of Scotland as a hunting lodge but still has a chapel that is used every Sunday and boasts the oldest tennis court in the world. It is more like a squash court however with walls, from back in the days before lawn tennis became more popular.
But once you’ve been on one tour of a 16th century castle you’ve pretty much seen them all so at Crathes Castle we concentrated on the beautiful gardens and at Craigievar we just had a coffee in the grounds, and admired the castle’s Disneyesque pink render.
Crathes CastleCraigievar CastleDrum CastleThe entrance to Falkland Palace
There are lots of songs with the word castle in the title but hardly any of them refer to actual castles and use the term as a metaphor for something else. A hauntingly beautiful song that I’ve not listened to for a long time is this one, Castles In The Air by Don McLean. Don actually wrote this song in 1970 for his first album but re-released it in 1981 as a single, this time a slower ballad version. I’m pretty sure my memory of the song is from first time around after which he went on to have many hit records such as American Pie and Vincent.
Castles In The Air by Don McLean:
In this instance the castles represent the high-rise living experienced by people in big cities. The narrator is weary of his urban lifestyle and is desperate to live a life in the country despite the fact he must say farewell to his love interest. He wants to realise his dream and look for a more like-minded country woman.
Castles In The Air Lyrics Song by Don McLean
And if she asks you why, you can tell her that I told you That I’m tired of castles in the air I’ve got a dream I want the world to share And castle walls just lead me to despair
Hills of forest green where the mountains touch the sky A dream come true, I’ll live there ’til I die I’m asking you to say my last goodbye The love we knew ain’t worth another try
Save me from all the trouble and the pain I know I’m weak, but I can’t face that girl again Tell her the reasons why I can’t remain Perhaps she’ll understand if you tell it to her plain
But how can words express the feel of sunlight in the morning? In the hills, away from city strife I need a country woman for my wife I’m city born, but I love the country life
For I will not be part of her cocktail generation Partners waltz, devoid of all romance The music plays and everyone must dance I’m bowing out, I need a second chance
Save me from all the trouble and the pain I know I’m weak but I can’t face that girl again Tell her the reasons why I can’t remain Perhaps she’ll understand if you tell it to her plain
And if she asks you why, you can tell her that I told you That I’m tired of castles in the air I’ve got a dream I want the world to share And castle walls just lead me to despair
Unusually for me I’m going to include the lyrics for two songs today as on the way home from our Aberdeen trip we had to go cross country and I passed through the village where I grew up. I got really nostalgic as we drove along streets I still know like the back of my hand despite the fact most of the shops are different and some new buildings have popped up. I had another trip planned for August when I was going to head down to the village and visit some old school friends. Sadly that is now on hold, as unbelievably, one of them has just lost her husband and another has a husband undergoing treatment for cancer. Both have parents who are still alive. I’m really starting to notice that unlike our parents generation we’re just not living as long, not a week goes by without some ex-colleague or acquaintance passing away. Don’t know if it’s the food we’ve eaten or the lifestyles we’ve led, but a sobering thought.
My childhood “castle”– a stubbier version of Glastonbury Tor?
But back to the village, we were lucky to have a castle on a hill overlooking us, so we always knew when we were nearly home. As teens it was not unusual for a group of us to climb to the summit of the hill and hangout amongst the ruins of the 13th century fortress that once stood there. Ed Sheeran wrote a song about a castle on a hill, an unlikely subject matter for a boy from Suffolk I thought, but it always reminded me of our castle and the times I spent there. Here is Castle On The Hill. The castle mentioned in Ed’s song is Framlingham Castle, and in 2017, he was invited to perform there. The song has been described as a love letter to Suffolk.
So, “What’s It All About?” – My quest to fit as much into the summer as possible is a tad exhausting, especially on top of all the other things I do in a week, but very enjoyable all the same. No more overnight stays now until September although a few day trips I’ll be writing about – first one is on Friday so watch this space, as it definitely involves music!
As for my friends in far-flung places, please stay fit and well. I don’t know what’s going on at the moment but we’re losing far too many people prematurely. I’ve just about caught up with all the friends I hadn’t seen for a long time now, but still a few to go. Will be later in the year now, but I will do it.
Until next time…
Castle On The Hill Lyrics (Song by Ed Sheeran/Benny Blanco)
When I was six years old, I broke my leg When I was running from my brother and his friends And tasted the sweet perfume of the mountain grass I rolled down Well, I was younger then, take me back to when
I found my heart and broke it here Made friends and lost them through the years And I’ve not seen the roaring fields in so long, I know I’ve grown But I can’t wait to go home
I’m on my way Driving at 90 down those country lanes Singing to “Tiny Dancer” And I miss the way you make me feel, and it’s real And we watched the sunset over the castle on the hill
15 years old and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes Running from the law through the backfields And getting drunk with my friends Had my first kiss on a Friday night I don’t reckon that I did it right But I was younger then, take me back to when
We found weekend jobs, when we got paid We’d buy cheap spirits and drink them straight Me and my friends have not thrown up in so long, oh, how we’ve grown But I can’t wait to go home
I’m on my way (hoo-hoo) Driving at 90 down those country lanes (hoo-hoo) Singing to “Tiny Dancer” And I miss the way you make me feel, and it’s real And we watched the sunset (hoo-hoo), over the castle on the hill
Hoo-hoo, over the castle on the hill Hoo-hoo, over the castle on the hill
One friend left to sell clothes, one works down by the coast One had two kids but lives alone, one’s brother overdosed One’s already on his second wife, one’s just barely getting by But these people raised me and I can’t wait to go home
And I’m on my way I still remember these old country lanes When we did not know the answers And I miss the way (hoo-hoo) you make me feel, it’s real When we watched the sunset (hoo-hoo) over the castle on the hill
Hoo-hoo, over the castle on the hill Hoo-hoo, over the castle on the hill
Since celebrating this blog’s 10th birthday, I’ve done a pretty good job of posting something new every Saturday as that’s pretty much my only free day for blogging nowadays. I averaged 50 posts per year over the first 10 years so I thought it would be really easy to aim for that target going forward but I’ve now missed four Saturday sessions, one because we were puppy-sitting and three because we’ve been away for the weekend. I have a bit of catching up to do.
I’ve already written about the weekend I was down in Glasgow for the Take That Circus Tour, so what else have I been up? After not having been down in “Glasgowshire” since 2019, I ended up going again within the following three weeks. When you are used to driving in the Scottish Highlands you are not used to the fast paced motorway network that gets people around in the South of Scotland. It was therefore with some trepidation that we ventured by car down to Greenock on the River Clyde to visit my uncle and cousins. As it turned out it was very easy, as the same motorway took us right through the centre of the big city and continued onto Greenock with no slip roads having to be negotiated at any point – phew.
Of course I knew all about the history of shipbuilding on the River Clyde and how it turned Glasgow into the Second City of the British Empire for a time. For decades, over 20% of the world’s ships were constructed there. The earliest commercial steamship was built in 1812 and by the late 19th and early 20th centuries over 200 shipyards lined the river, made famous for producing legendary vessels, including luxury ocean liners and naval warships. Sadly those days have long gone but I still remember watching the likes of Shop Steward Jimmy Reid on the news in 1971, organising work-ins after the collapse of the Upper Clyde Shipbuilders consortium. Rather than striking, he wanted to ensure the workers completed orders and projected the best image they possibly could. Many of us will remember his address where he instructed them that there should be “no hooliganism, no vandalism and no bevvying”. First time a public figure probably used the word bevvying (drinking) in a widely broadcast address.
Greenock, Gourock and Port Glasgow all merge together nowadays and I visited all three places on my weekend away. You can still see signs of the now defunct shipbuilding industry and the wealth it brought to the towns, but the big warehouses have now been converted to luxury flats overlooking the Clyde and boats now leave the many piers taking people on pleasure cruises. I don’t know about you but when I think of shipbuilding on the Clyde nowadays, I can’t help but think of the comedian Billy Connolly. Like many boys his age in Glasgow he entered the shipyards after he left school and has often said that’s where he learnt his craft. The men he worked with had a great rapport with each other and he still thinks their humour was funnier than anything he came up with.
When visiting my uncle in his fine flat overlooking the Clyde, I was lucky enough to see The Waverley pass by. It was built in 1947 and is the last sea-going paddle steamer in the world. There used to be many such passenger steamers on the Clyde, running from Glasgow downstream to Rothesay and other towns, a journey known as going “doon the watter”. Many Glaswegians started their annual holiday on such vessels.
My poor photo of The Waverly (ignore my reflection in the window)
When watching The Waverly pass by I was reminded of another boat famous for travelling down the Clyde. I don’t know if it was screened in the rest of the country but the The Vital Spark was a television series based on the Para Handy books by Neil Munro. Para Handy was the captain of the puffer The Vital Spark and the series followed the crew’s adventures in the 1930s, around the coastal waters of the West of Scotland. I think I was too young for the original 1960s black and white series but I remember well the one aired in the 1970s in colour. Must-watch television in our house at the time. Think it still stands the test of time.
But here I am writing about comedy that was derived from the antics of workers in the shipyards and on the puffers. This is a music blog, so where is the song?
A bit of a no-brainer really – it’s going to be the song Shipbuilding by Elvis Costello, the most successful version recorded by Robert Wyatt. It was actually written during the Falklands War in 1982, with Elvis’s lyrics highlighting the irony of the war bringing back prosperity to traditional shipbuilding areas such as Clydeside, in building new ships to replace those being sunk in the war, whilst also sending their sons off to fight and potentially lose their lives in those same ships. Looking back I don’t think the war lasted long enough for that to happen, but 44 years later there is still anger in Argentina over that war, which sadly spilled onto the football pitch after this week’s grudge match between the two erstwhile foes.
Shipbuilding by Robert Wyatt:
I have seen Elvis Costello perform that song, but I very embarrassingly interrupted him in mid-flow at Aberdeen’s Capitol Theatre. I was Yoko in the early 1980s, always wanting to be with my boyfriend, but having to accept he always had a coterie of male friends around him as well. They didn’t want to watch the support act which turned out to be The Bluebells who went on to great things, but decided to leave the theatre bar just in time for the main event. After consuming a few half pints I had to go to the “ladies” first, which took a while, so I was last to my seat and after Elvis had started his set. We had good seats near the front so I was mortified at having to walk down the middle aisle to get to my spot, Elvis giving me dagger looks all the while. Maybe I imagined it but I still cringe about that long walk to this day. Sorry Elvis.
Until next time…
Shipbuilding Lyrics (Song by Elvis Costello/Clive Langer)
Is it worth it A new winter coat and shoes for the wife And a bicycle on the boy’s birthday It’s just a rumour that was spread around town By the women and children Soon we’ll be shipbuilding Well I ask you The boy said ‘DAD THEY’RE GOING TO TAKE ME TO TASK BUT I’LL BE BACK BY CHRISTMAS‘ It’s just a rumour that was spread around town Somebody said that someone got filled in For saying that people get killed in The result of this shipbuilding With all the will in the world Diving for dear life When we could be diving for pearls It’s just a rumour that was spread around town A telegram or a picture postcard Within weeks they’ll be re-opening the shipyards And notifying the next of kin Once again It’s all we’re skilled in We will be shipbuilding WITH ALL THE WILL IN THE WORLD DIVING FOR DEAR LIFE WHEN WE COULD BE DIVING FOR PEARLS
