It was this blog’s 8th birthday yesterday and I got one of these anniversary badges from the WordPress people. Considering my long enforced absence for much of last year, the popping up of that badge was extra special, as at times I had thought my blogging days were over.
I always know when the anniversary is approaching as my blogging career started the day we found out about the death of David Bowie so it was inevitable I would write about him. He was only 69 when he died so we felt a bit cheated as he had become quite prolific over the last few years of his life producing new albums and creating a musical, Lazarus, which opened Off-Broadway in the December of 2015 when he made his last public appearance. Lazarus is a jukebox musical that was inspired by the 1963 novel The Man Who Fell To Earth which in turn was made into a film starring David in 1976. Lazarus continues the story of Thomas Newton, a humanoid alien who is stuck on Earth, unable to die or return to his home planet.
Of late, whenever I write about David Bowie I can’t help remarking on his incredibly good hair. Some of us in life are blessed with “good hair” (as my mum would have called it), and I am very jealous of them, as my fine baby soft hair has always been tricky to deal with and the fashionable styles of the day have usually had to pass me by. Bowie on the other hand changed his hair’s style and colour every time he invented a new persona. Who could forget his Ziggy Stardust “do” and the Thin White Duke’s (above), as well as his long locks of earlier years and the blond bouffant of the Let’s Dance years. Even at his death he still had a fine head of hair which is quite unusual for men approaching 70.
I mention all this as I have my final story to tell that relates to my stay in hospital last year. Before my blogging hiatus I had mentioned that my life in the sun (without a hat at any rate), had come to an end as the troublesome “sore” on my scalp where my parting fell, turned out to be a carcinoma, or BCC as they are called. I had ignored it for a long time and the waiting list to have such things removed is equally as long.
At last the date for the procedure at our local General Hospital came round, however, I was still an inpatient at the other large hospital in our town (see previous posts for which one). It took a bit of coordination, but I was transferred across very early in the morning, wheeled down to theatre and put under general anaesthetic, after which the offending bit of scalp was removed. It took me a bit of time to come round, after which I was given some lunch and transferred back to “my hospital”. All very efficient and seamless I hear you say, which is true as the procedure went well, except I now had a set of stitches across my scalp smeared in a Vaseline-like substance that couldn’t be washed out for seven days. My hair was also caked in blood at the back where it had trickled down during the surgery. I didn’t quite look like Frankenstein’s monster but in my mind’s eye I did, because there were no mirrors in the hospital. Every meal time I had to explain to whoever sat next to me what had happened, but I still got many odd looks that week. Finally we got to hair washing day. Andrea the nurse helped with that, and also gave me a bit of a blow dry which was good of her. They don’t shave your head any more thankfully when having such procedures but it’s definitely a bit thinner than it was, so the parting has had to move west a little and a mini combover has to be hair-sprayed into place. Even now, a few months on, I still have to apply chemotherapy cream (who knew that was a thing?) onto the offending bit of scalp every day. Thankfully Mr WIAA, with the help of a cotton bud, does that for me as I don’t have eyes on the back of my head, although we all know people who do!
Anyway, back to the music and the follicly blessed David Bowie. As I’ve written about his time playing the character Thomas Newton in the film he made in 1976, I’m going to choose something from the album he released that same year, Station To Station, where he played the character The Thin White Duke. I give you Golden Years.
Golden Years is apparently a funk and disco song reminiscent of the music on David’s previous album, Young Americans. The song also utilises elements of several ’50s doo-wop tracks in its arrangement. Lyrically, the narrator offers a companion the hope of entering a limousine, and being isolated from the outside world. He assures his companion that she will always be protected by him, and promises her a brighter future. Well, now we know, and I wouldn’t have worked that one out back in the day.
So, “What’s It All About?” – Who would have thought eight years ago I would still be tapping away on my keyboard all this time later. We had a bit of a scare last year when it looked as if I might not make a return, but happy to say I am just as enthused about blogging as a hobby as ever (or again, could it be the drugs!?).
As for having good hair like David Bowie, I think that ship has well and truly sailed, although I paid a visit to my hairdresser earlier on this afternoon and she did report back that there are short hairs growing in the general area of the surgery, so that’s a relief.
David Bowie was the first person I ever wrote about on this blog and I have revisited his body of work many times since, usually around the time of the blog’s anniversary. I think I was too young to truly appreciate him during the height of his fame in the early ’70s, but in later life I have come to realise he was the consummate artist, who could sing, act, write songs, create art… the list goes on. I also remember reading this week that he has been voted the Best Dressed Man In History. Not sure if some of his wacky Ziggy Stardust outfits helped or hindered in the receiving of that accolade, but he certainly was one cool dude. On that note I shall finish for today. Have a good weekend everyone.
Until next time…
Golden Years Lyrics
(Song by David Bowie)
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere
Angel
Come get up, my baby
Look at that sky, life’s begun
Nights are warm and the days are young
Come get up, my baby
There’s my baby, lost that’s all
Once I’m begging you save her little soul
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up, my baby
Last night they loved you
Opening doors and pulling some strings
Angel
Come get up, my baby
In walked luck and you looked in time
Never look back, walk tall, act fine
Come get up, my baby
I’ll stick with you, baby, for a thousand years
Nothing’s gonna touch you in these golden years
Gold
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up, my baby
Some of these days, and it won’t be long
Gonna drive back down where you once belonged
In the back of a dream car twenty foot long
Don’t cry, my sweet, don’t break my heart
Doing all right, but you gotta get smart
Wish upon, wish upon, day upon day, I believe, oh Lord
I believe all the way
Come get up, my baby
Run for the shadows, run for the shadows
Run for the shadows in these golden years
There’s my baby, lost that’s all
Once I’m begging you save her little soul
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Come get up, my baby
Don’t let me hear you say life’s taking you nowhere
Angel
Come get up, my baby
Run for the shadows, run for the shadows
Run for the shadows in these golden years
I’ll stick with you, baby, for a thousand years
Nothing’s gonna touch you in these golden years
Gold
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
Golden years, gold whop whop whop
What's It All About? 