Monday, December 18, 2006

I remember when Bob Dylan released Self Portrait the critics savaged it, but Marc Bolan wrote or spoke out in his defence, saying all Dylan was doing was singing love songs, and what was wrong with that?

I remember a poem cut out of The Listener which I used to have taped to the top of my bedside table. It was by Patric Dickinson (which might not be the right spelling although I think the first name is correct) and despite years of searching on the Internet I have not been able to find it, but it was about love, chalk and precipitation - or something like that. I thought it was particularly beautiful.

I remember watching Tim Quirk, the best barman in the universe, serve customers at the Anchor Inn, Seatown. He would make everyone feel special, even kids deciding whether or not they wanted a straw.

I remember my son Eliot used to make car journeys go quicker by reciting whole episodes of The Simpsons. He did all the voices as well.

I remember Enos. For indigestion and stomach upsets.

I remember when people used to queue at bus stops. Even children.


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