Dementia - need I say more?

Dementia...scourge of our time.

Good afternoon to you! It's been a few weeks and, after some deliberation, I am going to tell you why I haven't  blogged my usua...

Friday, 7 November 2014

A Very Personal Bowie. What's Your Life Song?

Hiya. Good of you to pop in!
Okay. First of all, if you hate David Bowie, you should skip this post! But: if you have an open mind, perhaps you should read it after all.




Long, long ago, when I was thirteen and living in the middle of nowhere, and cycling to school every day (took me thirty minutes there against the Westerly wind, and back again, more often than not again against the wind), and hating every minute of my life (I was a troubled kid), one of my classmates who was heavily into music pointed the following out to me: "There is a guy who makes music for people like you".
Oh?
The next day he was so kind to bring his cherished David Bowie album to school; 'The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust'. He promised me I could take it home for exactly one evening, in return for a grope and a kiss.
The grope he never got, but the kiss...I was a good bargainer even then.

That evening I put on the album, watched over by my dog Bello and one of my three cats, Bobby. I sat down cross-legged on my second-hand afghan carpet, surrounded by incense fumes, and staring at a candle (told you...), and prepared to be enlightened.

At first I was bewildered.
Then I was intrigued.
When I put it on for the third time, I was tapping along and anticipating the best songs.
The fourth time running (it was way past my bedtime by then and my room was misty blue and foggy from all the fumes, and Bello and Bobby had colonised my bed) I listened to 'Rock 'N' Roll Suicide' five times in a row and cried my eyes out.
There I was. I recently had had the most shitty time of my life, and here was a man who knew exactly - but exactly - what I was going through. And he didn't even know me! But he knew what words I needed so desperately.

Right. Long story short. I hung on. Became a life-long David Bowie fan. Even now, I struggle to play his songs on the guitar.

So, Hans, mate, haven't a clue where you are these days, but you were right. And I don't begrudge you that kiss for a second.
Rock 'N' Roll Suicide









Sunday, 2 November 2014

Viggo Plays Guitar.

Hiya, happy Caturday to you!
When I told you I would start posting about music, I also promised to ask Viggo to make the occasional appearance, and I always keep my promises.



Ever since my tomcat Viggo trashed my brand new guitar to make a point (his point being that he wanted me to get out of bed at 3 am and feed him), Viggo and guitars have a somewhat fraught relationship. So I thought it an idea to ask him about this.

Q: Could you say that you dislike my guitar?

V: Yes, I could say that. But I won't. Because it isn't true.

Q: Then what made you decide to swat my guitar from its stand?

V: I simply saw an opportunity. It just stood there. You just lay there. I was hungry.

Q: Did you feel sorry afterwards?

V: Don't be silly. I cannot understand your weird emotions about that guitar. You almost cried, I mean...honestly. It's a thing made out of wood and strings, not a living being. And you should have spared a thought for me! You shouted at me! I was sooooo upset!

Q: I observe your somewhat...reluctance to come near my guitar nowadays though. Not that I am complaining. 

V: Yes, well, you would be reluctant too! That guitar crashing scared the bee-jeebies out of me. I didn't foresee that it would make that clanging noise. That, and you screaming! 

Q: But you take a wide berth when I am playing it, as well.

V: That's because you keep playing the same thing over, and over, and over....

Q: That is called practicing.

V: Oh...is that was it is. I thought it was simply bad music. 

Q: Watch your mouth!

V: That wasn't a question.

Q: I mean it, take care what you say, or I'll cut your ration.

V: WHAT? Even more? Don't you dare! It's barely a mouthful as it is! And Gina tries to eat it every time!

Q: That's your own doing, you keep leaving half!

V: I save it! It is for later! That's first cat rule, you save a bit for later! For when you want another little bite!
Q: Well, that's plain stupid, you should eat it all, because you know Gina tries to get at your food.

V: That's it. This talk is over! You can take your stupid guitar and stick it up your...Oh! What's that? Did you see that?

SWAT!

Q: Well. What can I say? And another dragonfly bites the dust. Did that taste good?

V: Mwah. A bit disappointing. It looked better than it tastes. So I think I'll leave the rest, if you don't mind.

Q: You just bit its head off, Viggo! You left the rest already anyway.

V: Pooh! Semantics! Okay, time for my wash. Oh...no...not the guitar, please!

Q: I'll put the headphones on.

V: Thanks. Tickety-boo, then.