So goes the start of a Don McLean song from the 1970s - "American Pie", in fact. However, that's got nothing to do with it. What I was really saying was that things which we were interested in back in those halcycon days - our salad days in fact - have sort of slowly sunk into semi-oblivion and only come back to mind on rare occasions, such as when we actually hear a song or smell a smell or something like that.
I heard the Don McLean song this morning. It reminded me of a few things. Come to think on it, there was a lot of music in the 1970's which bring back memories to a lot of folk. I bet there's not much music these days which will bring back memories in forty years' time. In fact there is no music around today that will even be remembered at all next year, never mind in forty years' time.
I liked the 1970's so much that some people accuse me of still living in those days, grey hair and all. Well, if I do, who can blame me? And if my suits are a bit out of style, they will come back in sooner or later. Flares and flowered shirts - I must have been a sight for sore eyes, but I wasn't on my own. See! Even remembering those days can bring a smile. These days, well, there are other things attracting our attention, things like ensuring we get our five a day, turning off the lights and heating so that we can go blind in the dark and freeze to bleedin' death because we can't afford to stay warm - etcetera.
I went horse-riding again last weekend, and I'm going again next. The week after that I am going for my first overnighter, my first nights spent out of prison in over a quarter of a century. Hell's bells! It sounds a long time when put like that. I shall be getting on a train for the first time in a long time too. I suppose I should be looking forward to it, but I can't say that I am. What's the point? Apart from getting a tick in a box for the purposes of meeting the criteria set by the Parole Board.
I shall arrive at the hostel and be introduced to strange people who will tell me the rules and regulations of the place and be shown to yet another cell for me to live in, albeit for just a few nights - two in fact. So, what will I do for the weekend? Not a lot - wander about like a lost lamb, I expect.
It would make more sense to let me go and stay at Buddy's stable for the weekend - we could get to know each other better and I would be able to do a bit more work on the saddle. Perhaps I can persuade The Wallace to let me go there the next time I get an overnighter.
So, a weekend away is on the cards and that means that I will end up wandering around a second-hand bookstore or some such emporium dealing only in ancient merchandise - much like myself really. Let's face it, me being scum and only one step up from a tramp anyway, second-hand books is all I can afford. Besides, like the music I listen to, they are probably better than what passes for literature in our modern times.
Oh yes, I can certainly remember when the music used to make me smile. I was younger then.
The Voice In The Wilderness
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