Sunday, August 31, 2014

I remember my dad being the one I'd go to if I needed any technical help. Electrical and electronic obviously, but also anything to do with the car, plumbing, DIY, the list goes ever on and on…

I remember Benji's. I used the one at Victoria. I think I used to get three cheese and tomato rolls for £1!

I remember the brass plate on my harmonium, a jokey one about members of the congregation touching the organ etc etc. You know the one. They have the same one up on the wall in the Hope in Wallington. I thought it was mildly amusing at the time.

I remember the fire at Woolworths in Wimbledon.

I remember seeing the picture of James Foley lying in the desert, his head posed neatly on his stomach. It’s not something you can unsee.

Thursday, July 31, 2014

I remember taking Fairport’s album Unhalfbricking into a music lesson and having either Autopsy or Who Knows Where The Time Goes dismissed out-of-hand by Bruce Pullen, the music master. They both remain particular favourites of mine to this day. I’ve only just discovered a beautiful version of WKWTTG by one of my favourite singers, Kate Rusby. But I’ve never understood why – or how – Bruce was unable to see any worth in the song, or songs.

I remember Kate Rusby’s fan.

I remember Tom Paxton singing Jennifer's Rabbit, which I had on a live LP, (having just checked the album was called The Compleat Tom Paxton [1971]), and which I took to be a personal favourite because that was the name of my little bitty sister.

I remember a VCR engineer who had cassettes of BBC bloopers which were unavailable anywhere else. And then along came It’ll Be All Right On The Night, and DVD extras.

Monday, June 30, 2014

I remember thinking that Big Chief I-Spy was actually writing to me.

I remember accepting a lift on a moped to school and I'm pretty sure that the sixth former in question didn't have a spare crash helmet. You didn't in those days. Gosh I'm lucky to be alive.

I remember being taught in a history lesson about Ireland where I think it was Roman Catholics (but it might have been the other persuasion) were only allowed to own a horse worth say £5. So if someone came up and asked them for their horse, they had to sell it for £5 or they'd be arrested. Which I though was fascinating. Not right, indeed totally unfair, but fascinating. A bit like putting a woman on a ducking stool. If she doesn’t drown, she’s a witch. But, of course, she does. Not right, but still fascinating.

I remember going to an after-party for an orchestral concert that a friend of ours conducted at Chelsea Old Town Hall. It was in an amazing house nearby. There was someone pretty big in piano-playing there - Rubinstein? Rabinowitz? Horowitz? Alistair Cooke's wife. An actor who invariably played posh people. I spent quite a lot of time chatting with the servants, a Spanish husband and wife who lived downstairs.

Saturday, May 31, 2014

I remember my collection of milk bottles. Not just any old milk bottles, they had various advertising slogans on them, such as Cadbury’s hot chocolate. And they were delivered by the milkman.

I remember while reading Strandloper on the bus to work one morning hearing a group of schoolgirls chanting ‘fee fi fo fum, if you lose you lick my bum’. And giggling. Couldn't see what the game was, but the reason I mentioned Strandloper was that it includes several references to that and similar nursery rhymes.

I remember Gig Young in a TV series about a small town newspaper.

I remember the album for That'll Be The Day on the Ronco (better known for television advertising) label. It was a double album, with one album of originals and the other hits of the eponymous film’s era.

I remember downloading Lew Soloff's album Little Wing the other day. What I didn't remember was that I had already downloaded it – presumably a while ago. I knew that I had downloaded the title track ages ago and that I hadn't really understood it, but listening to my mp3 download of the album, I now get it. And now I have it in flac I'm sure the world will be a better place.

I remember my harmonium. One if its stops had written on it 'Vox Humana'. Human voice. One of its reeds was a little off-key so eventually I had to slide it out of its seating and I just couldn't play that note. Can't remember if I sold it, gave it away or dumped it. But I remember going to get it one night from a house in Godalming. On the roof rack of dad's car. I suspect I saw it advertised in Exchange & Mart.

Wednesday, April 30, 2014

I remember... nothing!

Monday, March 31, 2014

I remember James Ellis, who recently died, spitting his chips all over the place during the first episode of Z Cars. There’s gritty. And cheeky young Davy Jones asking at the counter for a shilling for the meter. (It helps that the programme is available on YouTube.)

I remember having to validate saves. I think it was only on the Sinclair Spectrum, and when you saved a file you then validated it to check it had saved correctly. It might have still been necessary on floppy disks. Nowadays we just assume (or hope) that everything is really there. Or if you’re like me you save it in several places so if one goes wrong you have a backup.

I remember Danny Thompson, who is 75 this week, and, apart from all the wonderful people he has played with, his special relationship with John Martyn. He was playing at the Savourna Stevenson gig where she kissed me on the cheek. And it has only just been brought to my notice by an article in the Telegraph that he was a session musician on Cliff Richard’s Congratulations and the Thunderbirds theme tune…

Friday, February 28, 2014

I remember Nancy Kulp, the straight woman in the Beverly Hillbillies. She was the banker’s assistant or something like that. I can still see her in my mind’s eye, and hear her plummy voice. I liked her.

I remember the rubbery tops of glue bottles.

I remember what Aunt Rosemary said about how you only get to borrow your children, you never actually own them. Then they go off to America or Australia (I added that bit).

I remember the frogs we found mating in a corner of our patio at the weekend. They weren't being ostentatious or anything, hiding under a bird table and keeping quite still - but I knew what they were doing! They had disappeared by the next morning, so hadn't taken up residence in the new home Margaret had fashioned for them nearby out of an old earthenware trough, some leaves and moss. But what do I find yesterday morning in a puddle of water on the manhole cover in the middle of the patio? A heap of frog spawn. This is where the stupid bit comes in. I know the crocuses are out, but we haven't had winter yet. Don't they read the weather forecast? Frost coming in this weekend!?! Plus the horrible bit. The pigeons were starting to show interest. Needless to say, Marg went straight on the iPad and made a phone call – not worried a bit about them thinking she was mad - and we now have a bowl of frogspawn on the breakfast table in the conservatory. My babies!