Lost Mail and Trashed Houses: A Mini Rant (and A Couple of Great Songs)

Like many of us at the moment, I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time waiting in call centre queues, or more commonly nowadays chatbox queues (where you eventually find out you’re communicating with a robot), trying to fix some error or problem that really shouldn’t have happened. It can be very frustrating and I have a few ongoing situations that just never seem to get resolved. So, rather than moan about the fact that HM Customs are now charging us a hefty fee to have some of our bespoke items lost in the mail returned to us (they were sent abroad so we missed the delivery deadlines)…, rather than moan about the fact my last guests at the holiday hideaway pretty much trashed the place…, time to think of some songs to share.

The recent cyber-attack affecting International Mail seriously impacted small businesses

I wrote about him around here once before, but our regular postman has sadly now retired. At the time everyone seemed shocked I knew my postman so well and spent time shooting the breeze with him of a morning, but when he took on the job later in life he decided to approach it that way. When he retired there was an outpouring of good wishes on our local neighbourhood Facebook group and in some streets Happy Retirement banners were put up. Things have not been the same since he retired and although there is nothing he could have done about the missing international packages, I do think he might have been able to help with my current returns issue.

In that last post I shared the song Please Mr. Postman and I featured the versions by the Beatles and the Carpenters. This time let’s go way back in time to 1961 and listen to the original by The Marvelettes. These girls formed the very first successful all-female group and this song was the first No. 1 single for Motown. As we all know, the hits from that label then kept on coming, but despite their early success The Marvelettes were soon eclipsed in popularity by their rivals The Supremes. The song seems to have been written by a veritable committee but one of those committee members has a very familiar surname, Brian Holland, he who went on to write many of Motown’s hits during their peak hit-making period with his brother Eddie and Lamont Dozier. Between them they helped define the Motown sound in the 1960s. (Music clip the Carpenters version.)

Please Mr. Postman by the Carpenters:


As for my last guests trashing my lovely wee holiday hideaway in The Highlands, pretty much everyone experiences it at some point and we just have to suck it up. The booking platforms’ systems are flawed (people book under ‘borrowed’ accounts), and as they get the lion’s share of the fee from the guest, not the host, that old adage about the customer always being right generally holds true.

Not my actual place but shocking what some some people will do

A song that came to mind when I thought of houses, was this one, A House Is Not A Home written by my favourite songwriting team of Burt Bacharach and Hal David. We lost Burt recently so the BBC dedicated a large chunk of it’s weekend schedules to him, one of the shows part of a BBC Electric Proms concert Burt gave at London’s Roundhouse in 2008. Burt was aged around 80 at this point so the voice is not what it was but when I watched this performance on Saturday Night I was quite moved. Oh and for the record, when it comes to holiday lets a house is most definitely not a home, however hard we try to please. Some guests treat it simply as a product to be used and abused, which I still find shocking as I would always leave a place as I found it (and sometimes in better shape).

A House Is Not a Home by Chris Golfer:


Anyway, apologies for the mini-rant, but sometimes our blogs are the best place for such outpourings. Everything will be resolved in due course I’m sure but goodness me, just so time-consuming (and less time for blogging). I shall return no doubt in a better frame of mind.

Until next time…


A House Is Not a Home Lyrics
(Song by Burt Bacharach/Hal David)

A chair is still a chair, even when there’s no one sittin’ there
But a chair is not a house and a house is not a home
When there’s no one there to hold you tight
And no one there you can kiss goodnight

A room is still a room, oh, even when there’s nothin’ there but gloom
But a room is not a house and a house is not a home
When the two of us are far apart
And one of us has a broken heart

Now and then I call your name
And suddenly your face appears
But it’s just a crazy game
When it ends, it ends in tears

Pretty little darling, have a heart, don’t let one mistake keep us apart
I’m not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs and turn the key
Oh, please be there, sayin’ that you’re still in love with me, yeah

I’m not meant to live alone, turn this house into a home
When I climb the stairs and turn the key
Oh, please be there, still in love
I said still in love
Still in love with me, yeah

Are you gonna be in love with me?
I want you and need you to be, yeah
Still in love with me
Say you’re gonna be in love with me
It’s drivin’ me crazy to think that my baby
Couldn’t be still in love with me

Are you gonna be, say you’re gonna be
Are you gonna be, say you’re gonna be
Are you gonna be, say you’re gonna be
Well, well, well, well
Still in love, so in love, still in love with me?
Are you gonna be

Say that you’re gonna be

Still in love with me, yeah
With me, ohh
Still in love with me, yeah

Sleepless Nights, “Please Mr. Postman” and Songs About Aretha

Tuesday, 21st August, 9.30am

Well, as I sit down to start blogging for the first time in a couple of weeks, I feel a little nauseous – No, not at the thought of blogging, but because half and hour ago I had to leap out of bed and get ready to face the day at breakneck speed. The reason for this haste? – I didn’t want to embarrass myself in front of the postman!

This sounds ridiculous I know, but since giving up work last year I’ve been able to have a more laissez-faire attitude to becoming suited and booted by 8am every morning. Problem is, once you log on for the day, the hours and minutes can whizz by and I sometimes find myself still in pyjamas when the doorbell rings, knowing full well it will be our smiling postman, with some parcel or other I have to sign for. I probably imagine it, but he makes me feel like a tardy teen who has been festering under the duvet, as opposed to a busy bee who has already put on a washing, tidied the kitchen, paid a few bills and checked the various email accounts. To compensate I end up gibbering, telling him about everything that is going on in my life, but a nice little exchange all the same. My friend the postman is the only person other than my family (and the blogging fraternity who very kindly take the time to read my posts) who knows of the journey I have been on over the last year, since deciding the world of the paperless office was not for me.

pp

As this blog always features a song or two, this would therefore seem like the perfect time to squeeze in something I have long wanted to include, Please Mr. Postman. Now this is a song I am very familiar with as one of my favourite duos, the Carpenters, got to No. 2 in the UK Singles Chart in 1975 with their version. It started out however as the debut single for the Marvelettes and in late 1961 became the first Motown song to reach the No. 1 spot on the Billboard Hot 100. The Beatles started performing it as part of their live set at the Cavern Club in 1962 and also included it on one of their first albums. Here is a great clip from those days, the boys dressed in their very smart suits complete with snake hips and mop top haircuts. They would have had no idea back then of what was yet to come.

Last time the Beatles cropped up around these parts was when I did a compare and contrast (link here) between their version of Ticket to Ride and the slower paced one, yet again, by the Carpenters. Seems like a good time to offer up both versions of Mr Postman then (although I won’t inflict the Carpenter’s official Disney-themed video clip on you). Which one do you prefer, or would it be the original by the Marvelettes that floats your boat?

Please Mr. Postman by the Carpenters:

But I digress and have yet to explain my morning nausea caused by leaping out of bed at such speed. I woke up last night at 3.30am, which is fairly normal for me, but I usually get back to sleep at some point and get a few extra hours in before the 7 o’clock alarm goes off. Last night however I didn’t, as I had committed the cardinal sin of surfing the net on my phone before going to sleep as I still hadn’t worked out the angle I was going to take when I eventually get round to writing my Aretha Franklin tribute. Not so long ago, after “experiencing” the song I Say A Little Prayer at great volume on the car radio, I wrote another compare and contrast post (link here). The Aretha version of course won hands down, but other than that I’m finding it difficult to find a personal connection to her music. I can see how she came along at just the right time, when America was going through a period of massive change, but having been born about 20 years later in rural Scotland, other than appreciating that great voice and the passion with which she sang, nothing much else for me to write about.

aretha
Aretha Franklin 1942- 2018

So, the last thing I did last night before switching off my phone was to visit some of the other blogs in my little circle to remind myself what they had written about Aretha. Last week, even before it was announced she had passed away, CC over at Charity Chic Music had posted something very fitting and then Rol dedicated the whole weekend on his My Top Ten blog to the lady and her music. Both of these dedicated daily bloggers chose to include the song Aretha by Rumer and that was the cause of last night’s sleeplessness – After listening to it twice before turning the lights out, it was the first thing to enter my head when I woke up at 3.30am and subsequently formed an earworm for the rest of the night however hard I tried to get back to sleep. As earworms go it’s a very pleasing one, and quite a soporific one you would have thought, Rumer having a voice not that dissimilar to the late great Karen Carpenter. But no, last night it just didn’t work out that way at all.

Aretha by Rumer:

Typically though, once Mr WIAA said goodbye and headed off to work, I slipped into a deep, deep earworm-free sleep, waking up far too late, thus the mad panic to get up and dressed before the postman’s inevitable ring of the doorbell. I made it, just, and so avoided that feeling of guilt at not being up and at it yet. Despite often talking gibberish of a morning, I decided that to recount the tale of the “Rumer earworm” was taking casual conversation a tad too far, so on this occasion resisted – Lucky chap!

As for the tribute song, I may not have had a personal connection to Aretha and her music, but the narrator in this song certainly does – All about a girl who goes to school listening to Aretha Franklin on her headphones. Like the fate of so many others, she’s having trouble there, and as her mother seems to be suffering from depression, she doesn’t have anyone to turn to. Fortunately Aretha comes to life in her imagination, encouraging her to stand up for herself and strike out on her own. The songwriter was asked why she chose Aretha Franklin: “She’s the Queen of Soul. If you’re going to write about somebody who embodies the spirit of music itself you go to the top of the list – and there she is. Her voice is probably the closest you get to God. There’s an incredible amount of passion and heartbreak in her voice as she’s lost a lot of family members. She’s just got something in her voice that puts her at the top of the tree and there’s no negotiation.” And on that note, I think I’ve just written my tribute post.

Until next time, RIP Aretha Franklin.

Aretha Lyrics
(Song by Steve Brown/Sarah Joyce)

I got Aretha in the morning
High on my headphones and walking to school
I got the blues in springtime ’cause I know that I’ll never have the right shoes

Mamma she’d notice but she’s always crying
I got no one to confide in, Aretha nobody but you
Momma she’d notice but she’s always fighting
Something in her mind and it sounds like breaking glass

I tell Aretha in the morning
High on my headphones and walking to school
I got the blues in springtime ’cause I know that I’ll never have the right shoes

You got the words, baby you got the words
You got the words, baby you got the words

“Oh Aretha
Aretha, I don’t want to go to school
‘Cause they just don’t understand me and I think the place is cruel”

“Child singer, raise your voice
Stand up on your own, go out there and strike out”

I tell Aretha in the morning
High on my headphones and walking to school
I got the blues in springtime ’cause I know that I’ll never have the right shoes
But I got the words