Alyson

The Infamous Joni Mitchell Bedroom Scene and Spoiling My Surprise

Hope everyone had a good Christmas and were given some lovely presents. Here is our little collection sitting under the tree. There was a tense moment however on Christmas morning, which looked as if it might lead to an “Emma Thompson moment” for me. In case you’ve never watched the much loved Richard Curtis movie Love Actually, Emma Thompson’s character who is married to Harry, had accidentally found a square-shaped box containing a beautiful gold necklace in his coat pocket, which she fully expects to be given as a surprise Christmas present. Come the hour, she opens this “surprise” gift with expectant glee, only to discover that it’s a Joni Mitchell CD boxset, a great present as she’s a big fan, but in that split second she realises that the gold necklace was for someone else, and she has to quickly extricate herself from the room. An emotional scene then takes place where she has to pull herself together before re-emerging to join the family.

Both Sides Now by Joni Mitchell:

I think this emotional scene has traumatised women of a certain age and we all dread getting that metaphorical boxset one day. This year I thought it had happened to me and this is why. Because I keep a tight control on the finances around WIAA Towers, and because we have a shared bank account and credit card, we tend not to be able to give each other surprise presents, but that’s fine by me – I’d rather be solvent than have a diamond ring. We choose our own presents from each other, then wrap them and put them under the tree. This year, just before Christmas Day, I had printed off the latest credit card statement to check all was shipshape only to find a purchase from a local jeweller right at the bottom. I usually question Mr WIAA about any entries that can’t be explained but this time I let it slide as I thought he might, for the first time ever, be surprising me with a piece of jewellery.

And so it came to Christmas morning and as it was just the two of us we had a cup of tea first, and then leisurely started opening the presents under the tree. I had some from friends so opened them first but then I spotted something new, a rectangular box from “Santa”, that hadn’t been there the night before. Aha I thought, the surprise piece of jewellery. I ripped off the paper only to find some toiletries in nice Christmas packaging. My heart sank so I had to question Mr WIAA about the mysterious purchase on the credit card as I didn’t want to be like Emma and have to extricate myself from the room to listen to sad Joni Mitchell songs. It was at this point he reached for a smaller box hiding behind a bottle bag, also from “Santa”. I had kind of spoiled the surprise but it was indeed a box containing the beautiful heart-shaped earrings I’d casually admired when out shopping the previous weekend. He had apparently felt guilty as he’d had quite a few expensive items of sportswear and equipment this year whereas I had just chosen my perennial favourites, a few books, some pyjamas and some eats.

So, “What’s It All About?” – To all those middle-aged women who are now deeply suspicious of a surprise present from their partners because of that particular scene in Love Actually, try not to be. I spoilt my surprise which should have turned out better than it did. Of course it wouldn’t have been spoilt if we didn’t share bank accounts but I’m not quite ready to surrender control, yet. Maybe by next Christmas?

The song Both Sides Now featured in Love Actually was from Joni’s album of the same name, released in the year 2000, featuring the plaintive sounds of a more mature woman.

Until next time…

Both Sides Now Lyrics
(Song by Joni Mitchell)

Rows and flows of angel hair
And ice cream castles in the air
And feather canyons everywhere,
I’ve looked at clouds that way.

But now they only block the sun,
They rain and they snow on everyone
So many things I would have done,
But clouds got in my way.

I’ve looked at clouds from both sides now
From up and down and still somehow
It’s cloud illusions I recall
I really don’t know clouds at all

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels,
The dizzy dancing way that you feel
As every fairy tale comes real,
I’ve looked at love that way.

But now it’s just another show,
You leave ’em laughing when you go
And if you care, don’t let them know,
Don’t give yourself away.

I’ve looked at love from both sides now
From give and take and still somehow
It’s love’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know love at all

Tears and fears and feeling proud,
To say “I love you” right out loud
Dreams and schemes and circus crowds,
I’ve looked at life that way.

Oh but now old friends they’re acting strange,
They shake their heads, they say I’ve changed
Well something’s lost, but something’s gained
In living every day.

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From win and lose and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all

I’ve looked at life from both sides now
From up and down, and still somehow
It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life at all

It’s life’s illusions I recall
I really don’t know life
I really don’t know life at all

A Look Back At Christmases Gone By and “I Believe In Father Christmas” (Does That Mean I’ll Get Presents?)

This is my 10th Christmas as a blogger, and boy, how things have changed in those 10 years. Regular followers around here will perhaps know what I am talking about, and I expect most people’s lives will have similarly changed, but to sum up my own situation here are how things were back in 2016. As well as dealing with all the admin attached to Mr WIAA’s business, I was still turning up at work every day to a traditional office where we still used paper, pens and folders. I had work colleagues I sat next to and we had Christmas lunches and nights out. I also however had to look after my mum who lived in a retirement flat nearby, and had an adult DD back living with us after a period of independence. I felt like the squeezed filling in a sandwich. How on earth did I find the time to take up this new hobby called blogging?

The Sandwich Generation: 2016

The first big change happened in 2017 after the walls came down (literally) at my workplace, and the adoption of LEAN working (working from home, hotdesking and no paper at all). I didn’t last long, and threw in the towel later on that year. Time to try new things I thought. That plan however was severely tested as my mum’s health deteriorated and she was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s in early 2018. After struggling on myself for nearly a year, we eventually found a lovely care home for her and she was there for over seven years, only passing away last month. As for DD, she met Mr Right in 2017, moved in with him in 2018 and got married in 2023. They are now happily ensconced in their new house with Alfie the puppy. Strangely enough, despite having more time on my hands now, my blogging output has very much diminished over the years, but what can I say, that first year I was a very keen blogger!

Empty Nesters: 2025

But this time I’m going to look back at a Christmas from much longer ago, 50 years ago, as the 1970s seems to be the decade I return to time and time again around here – the decade when I listened to and consumed the most music. Also I spotted this meme on social media recently and fully agreed with the sentiment (where did all those years go?).

How I feel all the time!

All the mainstream artists of the day released a seasonal ditty back in the ’70s and ironically they are songs we still hear on the radio and on compilations today. Why is this? Well we did consume our music in a very different way back in the ’70s, with whole families sitting down to watch Top of the Pops every week – a few slots on TOTP pretty much guaranteed you the coveted Christmas No. 1 position, and boy must those royalties still be rolling in for Slade and Wizzard, who between them assumed blanket coverage of December 1973’s airwaves with both Merry Xmas Everybody and I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday.

By Christmas 1975, an artist I had not really taken much heed of until that point, released a very satisfying seasonal record called I Believe In Father Christmas. His name was Greg Lake, first of King Crimson and then of Emerson, Lake and Palmer. Sadly, Greg was yet another casualty of 2016, my first year of blogging and the year when so many music legends passed away (George Michael, David Bowie, Prince…).

I Believe In Father Christmas by Greg Lake:

Greg wrote this song as an objection to the commercialisation of Christmas which in the intervening 50 years just seems to have got worse. Back in 1975 it reached No 2. in the UK Singles Chart but unlike some other Christmas songs from that era I feel it has stood the test of time. Something that I wouldn’t have known then was that the instrumental section between verses comes from a Suite by Prokofiev. If I had been a prog rock fan back then this might have made sense, but being a teenage girl I really wasn’t. Those of us who had older brothers were a bit more au fait with artists such as Emerson, Lake and Palmer who were attached to that sub-genre, but I didn’t, so was far more interested in my teen idols at that time, who often went by the name of David.

Thinking back to Christmas 1975, this song coincided with a very busy time for me education-wise as it would have been the year I sat my important Scottish “O Grade” Prelims (all 8 of them) in the build up to the holidays. Listening to a bit of festive music on our little kitchen transistor radio, whilst having breakfast before yet another big exam, would probably have been a bit of a tonic that set me up for the day. Also, thinking back, the ’70s were a bit of a grim time in Britain, so maybe the public took to buying seasonal tunes in their millions to make life just that little bit cheerier. Other big-selling records from that time were by Mud, Johnny Mathis, Paul McCartney, Mike Oldfield, Boney M and even The Wombles.

Sadly, very few contemporary artists have released anything recently that I think will be remembered in 50 years time. Even this year’s festive No. 1 by Kylie, called Xmas, has very little going for it and it seems she is bargaining on inspiring a new dance craze with the four letter title, like the YMCA boys did with their song. I have my doubts.

The Christmas flowers from DD’s in-laws that arrived when I was writing this!

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it from all of us here at WIAA Towers – only myself and Mr WIAA now, but we will be seeing DD and Mr DD on Christmas Eve (they want to spend the big day on their own this year as “it was just so stressful hosting last year” – wish I’d tried that one back in the day!). Have a good one.

Until next time…

I Believe In Father Christmas Lyrics
(Song by Greg Lake/Peter Sinfield)

They said there’ll be snow at Christmas
They said there’ll be peace on Earth
But instead it just kept on raining
A veil of tears for the Virgin birth
I remember one Christmas morning
A winters light and a distant choir
And the peal of a bell and that Christmas Tree smell
And their eyes full of tinsel and fire

They sold me a dream of Christmas
They sold me a Silent Night
And they told me a fairy story
‘Till I believed in the Israelite
And I believed in Father Christmas
And I looked TO the sky with excited eyes
‘Till I woke with a yawn in the first light of dawn
And I saw him and through his disguise

I wish you a hopeful Christmas
I wish you a brave New Year
All anguish pain and sadness
Leave your heart and let your road be clear
They said there’ll be snow at Christmas
They said there’ll be peace on Earth
Hallelujah Noel be it Heaven or Hell
The Christmas we get we deserve

Trips To London, ABBA Voyage and “Money, Money, Money”

I feel under pressure. My objective was to have pressed the publish button on 500 posts before this blog reaches its 10th birthday at the beginning of January, but I am now way behind schedule with seven still to write. As regular followers will know, there is a good reason for that, but as I still plan to reach my goal, I’d better get a wiggle on. Time for a web-diary type post.

It’s only 12 days ’til Christmas but I’ve not started thinking about it yet so no festive songs this time. Instead I’ll write about the other big things that have being going on around here over the last three weeks, starting with the trip to London we were advised to still go ahead with despite my mum’s passing. It had been planned for ages and it would be a while until her funeral service so it was a nice respite.

Just about every one of my friends had already seen the ABBA VOYAGE show in their purpose built arena in Stratford, but one who hadn’t, asked me a while back if I wanted to go. Then it turned out her husband wanted to join us so Mr WIAA decided to come too. This was the same couple who came to Eurovision with us 10 years ago, when we dressed up as Bucks Fizz, but this time we decided the outfits were just a little too outlandish (especially the mens’) for people of our vintage so I left my bright blue knickerbockers at home!

The hologrammed ABBA on stage!

As for the show, it certainly was an experience. You are in awe of the technology that allows them to be there on stage…, without them actually being there on stage, and the big wraparound screens showing them up close and personal were spectacular. I thought it would feel as if I was back in 1975 again, but I didn’t, as the arena is far more state of the art with fancy light shows than the small theatres I went to see bands in back then, and of course the audience is generally made up of people of a certain age. In the hour and a half running time however, there were only three songs we didn’t know with the rest all being crowd-pleasers, everyone singing along and dancing to the music. Would I go again? Probably not as I’ve done it now, but I’m glad I did.

Money, Money, Money by ABBA:

The ABBA show was on the Sunday night of our three day trip to London which left plenty of time to do other things. We split up with our friends on the Saturday which was fine as I had got in touch with our blogging pal Ernie Goggins of 27 Leggies to ask if would be willing to show us round his ‘hood? He was going to be available and was happy to do so, which led me to sending out a last-minute invitation to C from Sun Dried Sparrows to ask if she would be able to come through from Suffolk. I thought I had left it too late, but hurrah, she was free too, so we planned to meet up at Liverpool Street Station mid morning.

Ernie took his role as guide very seriously and had planned out a route that took in Brick Lane, Spitalfields Market, Graffiti Alley, The Huguenot Quarter, Shoreditch and The Dissenters Cemetery. The weather was a tad inclement but luckily we managed to fit all that in before the rain really started to pour down, after which we headed to the Barbican where Ernie had worked in his youth so he knew all the nooks, crannies and shortcuts! There we found a great photography exhibition featuring the icon that is Debbie Harry, back in her heyday. A great day was had by all and I now feel familiar with a part of London I had never visited before.

As for the rest of the trip we became very familiar with the Westfield Shopping Centre as our hotel was attached to it, but also The Olympic Park, the Docklands Light Railway and Canary Wharf. There, the tall glass towers housing financial institutions skirted the south side of the old East India Dock, but on the north side there was still Warehouse No. 1 and 2, which had been spared in The Blitz and was now a Museum, celebrating how the docks and wharfs of The Isle Of Dogs had at one point been the busiest in the world.

Crikey, my trip to London has fairly used up a lot of my words so I’ll be brief with the other things that have been going on around here of late. Even if you’re not a football fan it would be impossible to miss that we are now building up to the next FIFA World Cup to be held in North America next year. Scottish fans have not been privileged to watch their national side play in that competition for 28 years, but in a spectacular match against Denmark, where we scored two goals in extra time, we suddenly topped our group so are now definitely going to be taking part. For anyone aged 35 years or less, it will be a first-time experience so excitement is running high although I see the cost of tickets, flights and accommodation is going to be prohibitively high for all but the fans with the most Money, Money, Money. A great shame. Such was the spectacular nature of the goals scored in that last match, the merchandisers have been hard at work, and prints of those goals have been selling fast.

The hero of the night was Scott McTominay who seemed to defy the laws of gravity with his goal. Scott is also namechecked often in this song, already shared around here last year for the Euros, No Scotland No Party. It is true that until the Tartan Army arrive at a tournament, the party has not really begun, so I hope a fair number of them have enough money in their bankies to make the big trip across the pond to Boston and Miami.

No Scotland No Party by Nick Morgan:

We had a birthday in the family yesterday. Yes, Alfie the puppy turned one-year-of-age. We look after him a few times a week so despite not having chosen to own a dog ourselves, he is most definitely now shared by all of us. Needless to say he got a fair few presents and DD baked him some “pupcakes”, so he certainly was a pampered pooch.

Alfie in his new ball-pit with his birthday treat-holder!

What’s It All About, Alfie? by Cilla Black:

The final thing I wanted to share is that last week the charity shop I volunteer in moved to new premises in the centre of town. It’s big and shiny, like a “real shop” but maybe not the kind of place octogenarians are going to be able to help out in. An empty unit became available when quite a large chain clothes shop closed down, so those who plan the shop side of fund-raising quickly snapped it up. I think they had forgotten however that charity shops, in order to make money, rely on volunteers of a certain age to run them and even I was pretty tired after a four hour shift, what with a steady stream of customers queued up at the till, stock to price and replenish, shelves to tidy, and trips up two flights of stairs to fetch things. It feels at the moment like hard graft with no time to chat to your fellow volunteers or engage with customers, which was the fun part. The initial flood of business might tail off, but if it does the shop won’t make Money, Money, Money so a bit of a catch-22.

Although I said we no longer have time to engage with the customers, I did manage a quick chat with a 50-something year old chap with a hipster haircut who bought a clutch of singles, all from the 1980s. In fact it could have been a Who’s Who of people who appeared at Live Aid. I love catching people off guard as I don’t think they expect the volunteers to have much knowledge of the records we sell. I still don’t know why he liked the look of these particular singles so much but one of them was this, The Riddle, by Nik Kershaw. I ended up with an earworm that lasted several days, and I still don’t know what it’s all about!

Until next time…

Money, Money, Money Lyrics
(Song by Benny Andersson Bjoern Ulvaeus)

I work all night, I work all day
To pay the bills I have to pay
Ain’t it sad?
And still there never seems to be
A single penny left for me
That’s too bad

In my dreams I have a plan
If I got me a wealthy man
I wouldn’t have to work at all
I’d fool around and have a ball

Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man’s world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man’s world

Aha-aha
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It’s a rich man’s world
It’s a rich man’s world

A man like that is hard to find
But I can’t get him off my mind
Ain’t it sad?
And if he happens to be free
I bet he wouldn’t fancy me
That’s too bad

So I must leave, I’ll have to go
To Las Vegas or Monaco
And win a fortune in a game
My life will never be the same

Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man’s world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man’s world

Aha-aha
All the things I could do
If I had a little money
It’s a rich man’s world

RIP Mum: Songs From The Funeral

Well, a lot has happened since my last post a fortnight ago. The biggest thing being that on Monday we had a funeral service for my mum, which despite being small and intimate, was packed full of all the elements I know she would have approved of, and some she might not – but which went down really well with everyone who attended and watched online. She would have come round I know.

There seems to be a tipping point with age of death, which might be individual to each person, but unlike when someone dies prematurely at far too young an age, there are others whom everyone can agree “had a good innings”, and the funeral service is more a celebration of their life. I think my mum’s service fell into the latter category. Even around here, we seem to be writing tributes all the time for our musical heroes who are passing on at an alarming rate, but there is a totally different tone when it’s for someone like George Michael as opposed to when it’s for Burt Bacharach. I really enjoyed writing Burt’s tribute as I could revisit all those great songs of his I loved listening to growing up, however, I was totally bereft when George died suddenly on Christmas Day 2016, and his heartfelt tribute stretched to four parts.

But back to my mum’s service. It was held at the funeral home as opposed to in a church which is the first thing my mum might have raised an eyebrow at, but the church she had attended in town closed in the years since she went into the care home, so that was no longer an option, and her minister had moved away. Fortunately the minister from our local church was happy to conduct the service (despite the fact we never attend) and so we jointly came up with the Running Order as I called it, although I think it’s supposed to be the Order Of Service.

Although last time I included some of my mum’s favourite artists and music, I took a different tack for her funeral service and the song that accompanied her coffin entering the room was this one, My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose by our National Bard, Rabbie Burns. My mum would never have thought of herself as anything but a Scot, not for any other reason than that was just what she was. It seemed apt therefore to have this sweet Burns song commence proceedings. In the video clip below the singer Karen Matheson is introduced by Mr WIAA’s old art teacher, Donnie Munro, of popular Scottish band Runrig. The audio clip is by Margaret Donaldson and was the one used for the service.

My Love Is Like A Red, Red Rose by Margaret Donaldson:

My luve’s like a red, red rose,
That’s newly sprung in June:
O my luve’s like the melodie
That’s sweetly play’d in tune.

Having just read up about Burns and the song, it seems he was more the “compiler” of A Red, Red Rose rather than its author. He could take childish/unsophisticated sources and turn them into magic. Many composers have set Burns’ lyric to music, but it gained worldwide popularity set to the traditional tune Low Down in the Broom. In the final years of his life, Burns worked extensively on traditional Scottish songs, ensuring the preservation of over 300, including, thankfully for Scots the world over on Hogmanay, Auld Lang Syne.

The service then went on to contain a hymn, a couple of readings from the bible and a prayer which is what my mum would have expected, and would have appealed to the many old friends and relatives who were watching from abroad and from our village in Aberdeenshire. When it came to the eulogy I was not prepared to leave it in the hands of a minister who didn’t know my mum, so I elected to write it myself. All this blogging for ten years should surely help with that I thought, and it did. I was advised that 1000 words would take 10 minutes but after testing that theory we found you get 1400 words into 10 minutes so I used every one of them wisely, telling the story of her life (the detail of which people were amazed I could remember) and throwing in a fair few humorous stories along the way. I was very pleased with how it turned out. After setting the scene with the eulogy we watched a slide show of 40 photos, chronologically recording my mum’s life (easy for me to put together as I have generations of family photos in my loft). Sadly the slide show hit technical difficulties at slide two so we missed the three photos below but luckily it righted itself fairly quickly.

Photos of my mum as a youngster from the chronological slide show of her life

The song I chose to accompany the slide show was again, very apt for my mum, and although I think she would have been a bit shocked by its inclusion, it was the element that everyone commented upon afterwards. It was Jimmy Unknown by Doris Day. My dad was called Jimmy and was present in more than half of the photos we shared so it was just perfect. Although I had been trial-running it for a week, poor DD was not prepared, and seeing photos of herself with granny and grandad definitely tipped her over the edge.

Over the mountain, over the sea
Somewhere my Jimmy is waiting for me

Jimmy Unknown by Doris Day:

After the slide show we had another reading and prayer followed by the final hymn – something we all knew how to sing. In today’s more secular society we are just not familiar with the hymns and prayers the previous generations grew up with, which can make it awkward when trying to sing along to the music at a funeral or wedding. It suddenly goes up when you think it’s going to go down (Mr WIAA’s pet hate), or vice-versa.

The music I chose for the committal, when the curtains are pulled shut to hide the coffin, was the same piece of music I chose for my dad’s funeral 22 years ago, Highland Cathedral. It just made sense to bring them together like that. As I said above, my mum and dad always saw themselves as Scottish and after I moved to The Highlands, they became very familiar with my neck of the woods. It’s hard to find a version that isn’t too rousing played by a massed pipe band, but I thought this version found a balance. The photo is one of the cathedral in the centre of our town.

Highland Cathedral by The Band of Her Majesty’s Royal Marines Scotland:

There were only 25 of us at the service, 10 family/extended family members and 15 of my friends and neighbours who knew her. I know that quite a few watched from the village and they got in touch to tell me what a lovely service it was which was a relief. My cousin in Perth, Australia, watched at 10.30pm however my cousin in Melbourne had to wait until we had a recording of it, as it would have been 1.30am for him.

Afterwards we went to the hotel recommended by the undertaker who helped me organise things, for the “funeral tea” (although I later discovered they also own that hotel – makes sense!). Fortunately most people came and I had a lovely chat with my best friend from Primary School who had also worked with my mum at the village Health Centre. The biggest difference between us now is that most older people from rural Aberdeenshire still speak in the native Doric, whereas I lost that over 40 years ago. Two cousins came whom I don’t see nearly enough of, so plans have been made for the coming year. I also had to thank all those friends who came for support as they knew we had such a tiny family.

So, “What’s It All About?” – My mum was 90 when she passed away and despite having Alzheimer’s at the end, I think we could all agree she had a good life. My dad passed away too soon which made his funeral a really sad affair but I’d like to think my mum’s truly was a celebration of her life (although apologies to DD for making her very emotional). Life will be a bit different now with no more visits to the care home, but despite all my worries at the outset, she was well looked-after there right to the end.

Until next time…

Jimmy Unknown Lyrics
(Song by Ruth Roberts/Bill Katz)

Who will be my Jimmy Unknown?
Someone to love me and call me his own
Over the mountain
Over the sea
Somewhere my Jimmy is waiting for me

Will he be handsome? Will he be strong?
Lifting my heart like a beautiful song
Over the mountain
Over the sea
Somewhere my Jimmy is waiting for me

The day I surrendered
My lips to his charms
My secret of love
Will be lost in his arms

Who will be my Jimmy Unknown?
Someone who never would leave me alone
Over the mountain
Over the sea
Somewhere my Jimmy is waiting for me

A Sad Farewell To One Of The WIAA Family

My mum hasn’t featured around here for some time but over the years she has been mentioned on many occasions, first as someone who enjoyed reading my latest blog post when I went to visit her in her retirement flat, and then as someone who was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s Disease and had to move into a care home. Come Christmastime I always shared some seasonal music for all the generations of my family and my mum invariably got something from the Jim Reeves 12 Songs Of Christmas album. She did like her Jim Reeves.

Sadly, she passed away on Sunday, but thankfully it was quite quick in the end. I’d gone to visit her the day before and realised she was failing, but I was reassured it could take some time. I got a phone call at 6am the following morning to say I should come in to the care home but didn’t quite make it in time. That’s on me, but to be honest I don’t really want to remember her as she was over the last year of her life as it all became a bit grim latterly. I’m not sure who Alzheimer was, but he would have done well to keep his pesky disease to himself.

Looking through photos of her from over the years, I realise I’ve shared quite a few around here, those lovely black and white ones that look so much classier than the high resolution colour shots we now take on our camera phones. I will use some of them for the funeral. I did find something else however from not that long ago, a clip I want to share with you, to give you a sense of the lady. She did like her music, had natural rhythm and loved to dance. Whenever the accordionist came in to the care home she acted as his wingman, getting everyone enthused and choosing the repertoire. I have to smile when I see this.

My mum in better times

As you can imagine I’ve been really busy over the last few days with the admin of death but her funeral service is coming together nicely and I’m quite happy with what we’ve organised so far. I suspected it would be a really small intimate affair but I see the undertaker shared her announcement on his social media page today, as is the custom, and there has been an outpouring of affection for her from all sorts of people I have never heard of – from shopworkers, from cleaners in her flats, from people who met her walking into town and of course from the many care workers in her nursing home. I might have to hire a bigger boat!

I don’t think I can write much more to be honest as I have loads to do and a weekend away to prepare for. Yes, my London trip had been booked for ages and now that we are organised for the funeral in 12 days time, we can allow ourselves some down time. I think I am even going to meet up with some people from my little blogging community whilst in London, which is a bonus, so watch this space.

I shall leave you with some of those black and white photos I mentioned above and one of my mum’s favourite pieces of music, Stranger On The Shore by Acker Bilk.

Stranger On The Shore by Acker Bilk

Until next time, RIP Mum xx

Other Fine Blogs, Two Puzzles and Debbie Harry

I’m going to blame Rol from My Top Ten for my lack of posting something new for a while. I’ve been busy as I am now part of the Cancel Culture Club over at his place, where we debate whether songs from the past should be seen in a rather different light in these modern, progressive times. Should they be “cancelled” or do they still have merit despite their old-fashioned attitudes?

It’s been a really interesting series to be a part of, so I would recommend you hop over and spend some time reading the responses. So far we’ve been broadly in agreement about the songs in question: Young Girl, Turning Japanese and Girls, but I think with the next song on his list, it could be a lot harder to find consensus. Watch his space.

Rol’s other popular feature is Saturday Snapshots, where we have to work out from the photo and clue who each artist is and then find a link between one of each of their songs. We are now up to #420, so as you can imagine it’s been going for many years and a great reason to get up early on a Saturday morning and give the old grey matter a workout.

Those of us who join in however do feel guilty about poor Rol having to do all the legwork on Snapshots (although he has had some help of late in the form of guest posts). I have racked my brain over the years to think of a puzzle I could host but my ideas always seem lame and unworkable. I do however like saving things I like the look of on social media that relate to music, and at a push they could make for a bit of a puzzle.

As regular visitors to this place know I am fond of a spreadsheet and can’t imagine my life without them. I spotted something recently relating to songs that was in the form of a spreadsheet, but I then lost it again before I could save the picture. No matter I thought, I could remember how it went so I would create my own. The cells do end up quite small, so you’re going to have to blow up the image, but can you work out what all five songs are and who they are by? Each line represents a different one and you should be able to work out what it is by noting what the singer did on each day of the week. It’s very easy so don’t look at the comments boxes until you’ve got them all.

What I would most like from you guys however are more entries for my spreadsheet – there must be many out there that have lyrics relating to days of the week. If you have any, let me know via the Contact Me link. I can then add them to my sheet and share it again. Thanks in advance for your help.

The other picture I saw recently was this one of New Wave stars of the 1980s. I recognised most of them but not all so let’s see how you get on. At the moment I’m stuck with the chap at the far right of the top row and the two girls at the extreme left and right of the bottom row – can anyone help? I’m sure between us we can identify them all. Once we do have them all (if I’m lucky enough to get enough visitors to help) I’ll do a row by row spreadsheet with their names. Of course you will I hear you say!

As I’ve shared Rol’s photo of Debbie Harry, I’ll end with a song from Blondie, hopefully a politically correct one (although I’m starting to notice that I often missed the metaphors and euphemisms in songs when I was young – so naïve). Here is The Tide Is High from 1980, a song not written by the band but originally recorded by a Jamaican vocal group called The Paragons. But is Debbie in the picture above – I think she is but I don’t think it’s a very good likeness. What do you think?

The Tide Is High by Blondie:

Until next time…

The Tide Is High Lyrics
(Song by John Holt)

The tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
I’m not the kind of girl
Who gives up just like that
Oh, no

It’s not the things you do
That tease and hurt me bad
But it’s the way you do
The things you do to me
I’m not the kind of girl
Who gives up just like that
Oh, no

The tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
the tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
Number one,
my number one
number one

Every girl wants you to be her man
But I’ll wait right here ’till it’s my turn
I’m not the kind of girl
Who gives up just like that
Oh, no

The tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
The tide is high but im holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
Number one,
my number one
number one

Every time that I get the feeling
you give me something to believe in
every time that I got you near me
I know the way that I want it to be
but you know I’m gonna take chance now
I’m gonna make it happen somehow
and you know I can take the pressure
a moment to pay for a lifetime pleasure

Every girl wants you to be her man
But I’ll wait right here ’til it’s my turn
I’m not the kind of girl
Who gives up just like that
Oh, no

The tide is high but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one
The tide is high, but I’m holding on
I’m gonna be your number one

Postscript:

As my puzzles have been up for a week now, I think it’s time to offer up the solutions.

Spreadsheet of Songs Answers
Row 1 – Friday I’m In Love by The Cure
Row 2 – 7 Days by Craig David
Row 3 – Everyday Is Like Sunday by Morrissey
Row 4 – Eight Days A Week by the Beatles
Row 5 – Manic Monday by the Bangles

Solution to the New Wave Faces Print

New Wave Faces Solution Download

RIP Diane Keaton – “You Don’t Own Me” and Parallel Lives

My jury duty is now over, so back to my routine of posting something new weekly. Little did I think last time, that I would be writing a tribute for one of my favourite actresses of all time, Diane Keaton. With Robert Redford I didn’t really get a shock when I heard of his death, but with Diane Keaton I most certainly did. First of all I hadn’t realised she was as old as she was (79 when she died), as we have kind of grown up together with her film roles often reflecting what my life was like at the time. Also, although she did have more lines on her face as the years went by (as do I), she always seemed to be smiling which gave her a really youthful appearance.

The first film you think of when reflecting on Diane Keaton’s legacy is Annie Hall, the film made in 1977 that was written specifically for her, and in which she starred with Woody Allen. Diane had frequently collaborated with Woody prior to this and had also played Kay Adams in the Godfather films, but I don’t think I had actually seen them at this point so Annie Hall was my first introduction to her, and what an impact she made.

I had gone to see the film in Aberdeen’s Capitol Theatre one Saturday afternoon in 1978 with my best friend of the time. We had recently left school for University, and as we now lived in the big city, we were able to enjoy all that it had to offer. After watching Diane Keaton in Annie Hall we trawled the very few charity and vintage shops that were available at the time, and kitted ourselves out in baggy trousers, shirts and waistcoats. Such apparel would have looked ridiculous in rural Aberdeenshire but now that we were students it fitted our new personas perfectly. Also, despite looking outwardly quite quirky and different, if an older student or lecturer had entered into conversation with me, I would have become a gibbering wreck, not having yet acquired the confidence needed for such encounters. Inside, I was still that girl from a country school. Like Annie, I would have probably gone down the La-di-da, La-di-da route before making an embarrassing exit.

After watching the clip above last Sunday I kept having the song line, “La-di-da-di-da”, swirling around in my head. I couldn’t remember for a start what the song was, and it certainly wasn’t from the film, but it didn’t take long to work out it was Why, a song from 1982 written by Nile Rodgers and Bernard Edwards and performed by Carly Simon.

But back to Diane Keaton. Throughout the rest of the 70s, the 80s and beyond she appeared in many, many films, some with Woody Allen, but as time went by, mostly not. She could tackle the serious roles (Reds) just as easily as the romantic comedy ones (Baby Boom), and I loved her in everything she did. In terms of her style, the clothes had changed in the films she made, as did my style as serious jobs and motherhood had entered my life. And this is when a really special moment happened in my life. In around 2010, DD’s good friend Jamie who was a frequent visitor to our house, sent her a film clip with this message: “Omg, I’ve just been watching this film, and one of the actresses looks just like your mum”. Yes, DD’s friend had likened me to Diane Keaton! Although I knew she was a lot prettier than me, I was very flattered, as she had always been the actress I most wanted to be like in real life.

This was that clip from the 1996 film The First Wives Club. I did wear my glasses a lot more around that time, and my hair was of a similar style and colour, so I can see how he thought of me, but I don’t think he ever realised just how big a compliment he had just paid me.

You Don’t Own Me by The Blow Monkeys:

You Don’t Own Me was a pop song recorded by Lesley Gore in 1963, when she was just 17 years old. The song was her second most successful recording and her last top-ten single. It expressed emancipation, as the singer tells a lover she doesn’t want to be held to his hypocritical gender standards, such as not being able to see other men, when he sees other women. The song’s lyrics became an inspiration for younger women and are sometimes cited as a factor in the development of the second wave feminist movement. I don’t have the Lesley Gore version of this song in my library, but I do have this interesting version by The Blow Monkeys, recorded for the film Dirty Dancing which was set in 1963.

My final “Alyson/Diane lead parallel lives” story came about after I watched her in the 2003 film Something’s Gotta Give, with Jack Nicholson. Diane played Erica Barry, a successful writer who lives in a beautiful beach house overlooking the ocean. Although we don’t earn anything from this blogging hobby of ours, I have always been a frustrated writer so it’s a great outlet, also, my dream house would be one by the coast, overlooking the sea. But the big parallel between myself and Erica’s character is that she always wears polo-necks, or turtle-necks as they call them in North America. It’s a standing joke throughout the film, as it is with most of my friends who know that between the months of September and May I only wear cream or black polo-neck jumpers. Between June and August I change into striped T-shirts and shirts, but I never show much flesh.

Having read a lot about Diane since she died last Saturday, it seems her propensity for wearing polo-necks and hats with her quirky outfits in real life, was because she had suffered from recurring bouts of skin cancer, as have I. Not for us the sundresses and skimpy tops of our naturally darker skinned friends, and come September, when I become alabaster white again, I have to add a bit of artificial colour to my face. Having a tanned face but a white neck looks ridiculous, thus the polo-necks. I’ve even managed to source polo-necked evening dresses in the past for posh events!

So, “What’s It All About?” – I am beyond sad that Diane has left us and I hope I have explained in this post just why. She was the actress I most admired and felt close to because of the similarities between us. She will never pop up in anything new again but at least we still have all those great films to revisit time and time again.

RIP Diane Keaton xx

Until next time…

You Don’t Own Me Lyrics
(Song by John Madara/Dave White)

You don’t own me
I’m not just one of your many toys
You don’t own me
Don’t say I can’t go with other boys

And don’t tell me what to do
Don’t tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don’t put me on display ’cause

You don’t own me
Don’t try to change me in any way
You don’t own me
Don’t tie me down ’cause I’d never stay

I don’t tell you what to say
I don’t tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you

I’m young, and I love to be young
I’m free, and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please

And don’t tell me what to do
Oh, don’t tell me what to say
And please, when I go out with you
Don’t put me on display

I don’t tell you what to say
Oh, don’t tell you what to do
So just let me be myself
That’s all I ask of you

I’m young, and I love to be young
I’m free and I love to be free
To live my life the way I want
To say and do whatever I please

America, Puddletown and “A Horse With No Name”

I am time poor this week, as for the first time in my life I’ve had to do jury duty. Also, it looks as if I might be tied up for a while, so to keep up my new regime of posting something weekly, I’m going to borrow from a post I wrote right at the start of my blogging career and doesn’t seem to have ever been read. The reason I’ve chosen to revisit this particular post and song is because I save things I find funny on social media, and I did recently find this little cartoon funny. Probably for those of us of a certain age.

First published 9th April 2016

Most people will have heard the song A Horse With No Name by America at some point in their lives. It was a hit in the UK for them in 1971 but it turns out they were actually from Ruislip outside London. Would seem a bit bizarre if not for the fact all three band members had US Airforce Officer fathers who were based over here, and that is how they met. There is no escaping the fact their music is very much in the style of Neil Young, and Crosby, Stills and Nash, but that was exactly what they intended so it worked well for them. I have written before about how kids like myself who came from rural Scotland, found this kind of music very exotic and otherworldly. We had no dark desert highways or tequila sunrises, we certainly didn’t have warm winds blowing the stars around, and we wouldn’t have dreamt of crossing a desert on a horse with no name. Oh no, plenty of cows and sheep where I came from and lots of lush grass, but the whole desert imagery thing was something well beyond our ken.

A Horse With No Name by America:

The amusing thing for me about this “desert” song, is that it was actually recorded in the UK, at a studio in Puddletown, Dorset (you couldn’t make it up). It was released here first and it was not until the following year that it was a hit in the US.

But back to the song. For me, it will always be associated with my school days. In Primary School I always wore my long hair tied back in a ponytail so it was inevitable that the joker of the class would assign me an “equine” nickname. Too embarrassing to spill the beans here but suffice to say it was all done in jest and never caused upset. When we moved up to Secondary School I found myself in the same class for most subjects as the joker from my junior school days. The ponytail had long gone, but of course the song A Horse With No Name had well and truly become a part of our musical memories, so for the next six years I often found myself sitting in class, concentrating on a tricky maths or physics problem, suddenly realising that this song was being quietly hummed in the background for my benefit. Sadly we have now lost touch, but I swear that if our middle-aged selves met up again today, I would get a big smile, would be greeted with my old nickname, and given a few bars of A Horse With No Name. Funny how some things stick.

Until next time…

A Horse With No Name Lyrics
(Song by Dewey Bunnell)

On the first part of the journey
I was looking at all the life
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
There was sand and hills and rings
The first thing I met was a fly with a buzz
And the sky with no clouds
The heat was hot and the ground was dry
But the air was full of sound

I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la …

After two days in the desert sun
My skin began to turn red
After three days in the desert fun
I was looking at a river bed
And the story it told of a river that flowed
Made me sad to think it was dead

You see I’ve been through the desert on a horse with no name
It felt good to be out of the rain
In the desert you can remember your name
‘Cause there ain’t no one for to give you no pain
La, la …

After nine days I let the horse run free
‘Cause the desert had turned to sea
There were plants and birds and rocks and things
there was sand and hills and rings
The ocean is a desert with it’s life underground
And a perfect disguise above
Under the cities lies a heart made of ground
But the humans will give no love

More Robert Redford Mem’ries and Hubbell Relationships

Last time I wrote about the death of Robert Redford and of how I had been a big fan during my late teenage years. I even shared an old photo of the large poster I had of him on my bedroom wall. The time before that, I wrote about having spent a lot of time this summer reconnecting with very old friends, and of how it had been such a joy reminiscing about those things that made us friends in the first place. This week I discovered the sequel series to one of my favourite ever shows on telly, Sex and the City, featuring Carrie Bradshaw and her pals, and all three subjects have somehow converged to create this post.

The day I heard Robert Redford had died I was due to visit a friend for the evening as her husband was away and she had the house to herself. A film, a few snacks and a couple of supermarket cocktails is how we usually roll (we’re cheap dates), but this time I made the special request to watch The Way We Were, my favourite Robert Redford weepie. It also starred Barbra Streisand and covered the period from when their characters, Hubbell Gardiner and Katie Morosky, first met at college right through to the years they lived together in a beach house in Malibu, him writing for the Hollywood film industry and her primarily a housewife, albeit one with very strong political views.

Barbra Streisand doesn’t sing in that one but she did record the theme song of the same name, The Way We Were, where the lyrics detail the troubled relationship her character had with with the aforementioned Hubbell Gardiner.

The Way We Were by Barbra Streisand:

The very final scene of the film, however, jumps forward many years to New York [spoiler alert: they are no longer together] where Katie and Hubbell meet by chance in front of the Plaza Hotel – Katie is campaigning to Ban the Bomb. It’s a difficult encounter (“Your girl is lovely, Hubbell.”) as they have so much history and still probably love each other, but they both have new lives and partners, and have to ultimately part with a tender, bittersweet farewell. This scene always makes me break down in tears but because of the meds I’ve been on since being ill, I have lost the ability to cry – I had to make do with just being really sad instead. Here is a clip of that scene:

That emotional final scene

Ironically I had never watched The Way We Were all the way through until it was referenced in an episode from the original series of Sex and the City. It became one of my favourite scenes when Carrie finally realises that her failed relationship with Big (the nickname her ex-boyfriend was given because he was supposed to be The Big One, the one she married) was down to the same reason that it didn’t work out for Robert Redford and Barbra Streisand in The Way We Were. The world is made up of “complicated girls” with wild curly hair (Carrie and Barbra) and “simple girls”, the ones with tame straight hair. Big and Hubbell chose the simple girls.

The Hubbell Moment

Even before Redford’s death, I had already been thinking about Hubbell Relationships ahead of my recent trip to The Granite City, my old stomping ground. My trip was purely to meet up with as many old friends as I could and it was really successful – even after more than 45 years apart, the meet-ups I had with old school friends were joyous affairs, with so much to reminisce about.

One person I would have loved to meet up with is mentioned around here often as he is kind of “My Hubbell”. We shared a love for ’70s/’80s music so he pops up in my posts as the s/bf (school boyfriend), again as the s/bf (student boyfriend) and sometimes the BOTT (the boyfriend of the time), when we were in our 20s. Many of us have a Hubbell, and there is no-one from those days I would have more to reminisce about with, but it just isn’t possible. We didn’t particularly part on bad terms, but it became obvious, again like with Hubbell and Katie, that we weren’t “going to make it”. I’m not particularly complicated and certainly don’t have wild curly hair like Carrie Bradshaw but the situation at the end was quite complicated, so there has been very little communication in nearly 40 years. I know Mr WIAA would get on well with him, as they are very alike, but bar bumping into each other outside the New York Plaza, probably not going to happen.

Do you have a Hubbell or a Katie, someone you shared so much with but then never saw again, or did you stay “friends”? I would love to hear about it in the comments boxes.

There have been lots of film clips in this post and not much music, but just the way it’s turned out. I feel I have to add the lyrics to The Way We Were despite them being a tad oversentimental (you don’t say!). The song was written by Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman, and Marvin Hamlisch, and it won two Academy Awards. The single was also a commercial success becoming 1974’s most successful recording in the United States placed at number one on the Billboard Year-End Hot 100. In the UK we are probably all more familiar with the Gladys Knight & The Pips version, also from 1974, where she did a bit of a mash-up with the song Try To Remember.

Try To Remember/The Way We Were by Gladys Knight & The Pips

Until next time…

The Way We Were Lyrics
(Song by Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman/Marvin Hamlisch)

Mem’ries light the corners of my mind
Misty water-colored memories of the way we were
Scattered pictures of the smiles we left behind
Smiles we gave to one another for the way we were

Can it be that it was all so simple then
Or has time re-written every line?
If we had the chance to do it all again
Tell me, would we? Could we?

Mem’ries may be beautiful and yet
What’s too painful to remember
We simply choose to forget

So it’s the laughter we will remember
Whenever we remember the way we were
The way we were

RIP Robert Redford – Songs from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid

One of the last great actors from Hollywood’s Golden Age left us last week and I’ve had a really enjoyable time reading all the tributes that have been written about him since. He lived to the grand old age of 89 and had achieved so much in his life so it wasn’t one of those really tragic deaths but the natural conclusion to a life well-lived. By all accounts he was a Prince Among Men – a man with great integrity who just happened to be blessed with golden good looks and the skills to be a talented actor and director. He was an environmentalist and a great supporter of independent cinema, setting up the Sundance Institute and the Sundance Film Festival, helping to foster a new generation of filmmakers.

I became a big fan of both Paul Newman and Robert Redford after watching them in the film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. I wrote about songs from the film in my first year of blogging and looking back it doesn’t seem to have ever been read by anyone, so I’m going to share it again. I have another Redford film to write about that’s also featured around here, but I’ll leave that one until next time.

First published 28th August 2016

When is a song not a song? Why of course when it’s one of those pad a dap a dapadda, doob be doobee doop, pum… pum… pum… padadappada type numbers performed by vocal harmony groups. I read a review this week for the 1969 film Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and immediately had those scenes in my head where Butch and Sundance are being chased down by the posse, led by white-hatted Lefors (“Who are those guys?”). It becomes clear they have to flee, and so they head to Bolivia with Sundance’s schoolteacher lover, in search of a more successful criminal career. Throughout the movie we are treated to Burt Bacharach’s amazing soundtrack, and when they hit Bolivia, it is the perfect cue for South American Getaway.

South American Getaway by Burt Bacharach:

Now I had always thought that this part of the soundtrack was by The Swingle Singers, that a cappella group that seemed to pop up with great regularity on Saturday night telly in the 1970s, but no, South American Getaway was by the Ron Hicklin Singers, a group of Los Angeles-based studio singers. They are most famously known as being the real backing singers behind The Partridge Family recordings but also worked on The Good, the Bad and the Ugly theme, MacArthur Park and Suicide Is Painless (the theme to the film M*A*S*H). They were the vocal equivalent of (and often worked with) The Wrecking Crew, that bunch of top session musicians who played on many ’60s and ’70s records. They were the house band for Phil Spector but also worked with Sonny & Cher, The Beach Boys, The Mamas & the Papas, Frank Sinatra and even Elvis. Getting back to the Ron Hicklin Singers, Ron himself was lead tenor but there was also an alto, a soprano, a bass and a couple of brothers called Bahler, who performed tenor harmonies on South American Getaway.

I was too young to have seen Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid at the cinema in 1969 so would only have seen it a few years later on television, but what an impact it made. The two lead actors, Paul Newman and Robert Redford had amazing on-screen chemistry, and for me, it marked the start of a major crush on both of them. In 1974 Paul Newman starred in The Towering Inferno, one of the many disaster movies around at that time and fortunately I was now old enough to see it at the cinema. The blue-eyed Mr Newman was actually five years older than my dad by that time which seems kind of creepy now but with film stars the whole age thing never seems to matter and even today stars like Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, who are positively middle-aged, are adored by legions of young female fans around the world.

Around this time it was deemed that my childhood bedroom was in need of redecoration and I was given carte blanche on what the new scheme should be. (Bear with me here, there is a reason for this bit of sidestepping.) Down came the ’60s style wallpaper and the posters of Donny Osmond, David Cassidy and Bjorn Borg, and up went woodchip wallpaper, which could be painted any colour I wanted. After pouring over paint charts for some time I went for an attractive mustard colour which would, I thought, look good with my new brown and orange curtains. Of course paint charts can be notoriously misleading and once my dad had finished the room it was most definitely a khaki green colour as opposed to mustard but hey, I was happy, it being so modern with the woodchip an’ all.

One of the house rules for this newly decorated bedroom was that there were to be fewer posters and certainly none attached with drawing pins – Instead I could use that new-fangled stuff called blu-tack. And so it came to pass that a giant poster of Paul Newman was purchased and a slightly smaller one of Robert Redford to feature on the newly painted khaki green walls. I honestly think they remained there until I left home about four years later so I obviously stayed true to this pair for a sizeable chunk of my teenage years.

Because I usually end a post with lyrics, which is not really possible with South American Getaway, I will also include a clip of the most familiar piece of music from that film’s soundtrack, Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head. Again this was a Bacharach composition and I always knew that the person singing it in the film was BJ Thomas but of course in the UK at the start of 1970, it was that dashing Frenchman Sacha Distel who got to No. 10 in the UK Singles Chart with the song.

Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head by BJ Thomas:

It’s a bizarre kind of song to have inserted into a film about The Wild West but somehow it just works. This was a film all about the relationship between Butch, Sundance and Katharine Ross’s character Etta Place. Despite the desperately sad ending, there were just so many comedic moments and the scene on the bicycle kind of summed it up for me. Over the years I have tried to put together the recipe for a “perfect day” and a lot of the ingredients are contained within the video for this song:

It’s got to be a sunny day and if dappled sunlight is present (like here) even better.
Got to be with good friends you can truly relax with and be yourself.
Got to be wearing possibly quirky, but definitely comfortable, casual clothes.
Important that there is no timetable or agenda for the day so that you can just go with the flow.
Not got to be a costly day but to be full of simple pleasures.
Get to go home to your own bed at night!

Not for everyone I know but works for me and watching the scene from the film again, I just love how Butch and Etta have that easy relaxed friendship, riding around in dappled sunlight, picking apples from the tree. Very late ’60s indeed and oh to have been Miss Ross on that very special day. Stepford was still many years in the future so for the time-being, until the going got a bit tough down Bolivia-way, she could enjoy being part of one of the most famous trios in film history.

Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head Lyrics
(Song by Burt Bacharach/Hal David)

Raindrops are falling on my head
And just like the guy whose feet
Are too big for his bed
Nothing seems to fit
Those raindrops
Are falling on my head
They keep falling

So I just did me some
Talking to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way
He got things done
Sleeping on the job
Those raindrops
Are falling on my head
They keep fallin’

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me
Won’t defeat me, it won’t be long
Till happiness
Steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes
Will soon be turning red
Crying’s not for me ’cause,
I’m never gonna stop the rain
By complaining,
Because I’m free
Nothing’s worrying me

It won’t be long
Till happiness
Steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep falling on my head
But that doesn’t mean my eyes
Will soon be turning red
Crying’s not for me cause,
I’m never gonna stop the rain
By complaining,
Because I’m free, ’cause nothing’s worrying me

Postscript:

As luck would have it I’ve just found a photo of my teenage bedroom and I think I made a mistake – Robert Redford was the large poster and Paul Newman the smaller one. Shows off the mustard/khaki walls too (and Sandra the doll!).

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