The Spirit(s) of the Times
Some posts are short, some posts are long. Rather like listening to a JJ Cale album, in fact.
Tonight’s post is the textual equivalent of End of the Line, from JJ’s 1989 Silvertone album Travel-Log. It’s shorter than most, slightly off-key, and yet somehow strangely pertinent to the whole project.
The JJ moment looks like this (doubleclick for a shockkhorreur better view)...
21 Today!
The venue: Victory Square. You know all you need to know about Victory Square.
The occasion: Pat Chappelle’s 21st birthday party. Somebody has obviously given him a bottle of whisky. Let’s hope it alleviates the sulphate already showing in his eyes.
The other persons present:
- Your correspondent. I’m reasonably sure, though I’m not responsible for these photos. I may have been lying down somewhere by the time the pictures were taken.
- Yaya. Instantly recognisable. Even sat.
- Libby. That’s why I have a hunch I was there too.
- Simon.
- Pat. It's my party and I'll get wrecked if I wanna.
If you’re following the chronology, you’ll probably have worked out I’ve jumped back in time a bit. Pat’s a Gemini. That places these pictures in June sometime. Around about the time Bertha arrived on the scene, but before the major refurbishments were carried out.
Why, therefore, are these pictures relevant?
For one thing, they summon up the spirit of the times rather admirably. See the expression on Simon’s face. Also the stylish Victory Square party furnishings.
For another thing, they pretty much prove that Yaya and Simon were good friends even then. As they remain to this day, in 2005.
For yet another thing, they include Libby. Again. I’m still working that one out.
For yetayeta nother thing, they amply demonstrate that 21st birthday parties are not what they used to be.
They also give me a breathing space while I work up to the central quandary of the entire Bertha saga: the big decision.
Who’s on the bus?
We’ll find out. But first, a brief detour. To one of the best afternoons of music any self-respecting head could hope to experience…
Tonight’s post is the textual equivalent of End of the Line, from JJ’s 1989 Silvertone album Travel-Log. It’s shorter than most, slightly off-key, and yet somehow strangely pertinent to the whole project.
The JJ moment looks like this (doubleclick for a shockkhorreur better view)...
21 Today!
The venue: Victory Square. You know all you need to know about Victory Square.
The occasion: Pat Chappelle’s 21st birthday party. Somebody has obviously given him a bottle of whisky. Let’s hope it alleviates the sulphate already showing in his eyes.
The other persons present:
- Your correspondent. I’m reasonably sure, though I’m not responsible for these photos. I may have been lying down somewhere by the time the pictures were taken.
- Yaya. Instantly recognisable. Even sat.
- Libby. That’s why I have a hunch I was there too.
- Simon.
- Pat. It's my party and I'll get wrecked if I wanna.
If you’re following the chronology, you’ll probably have worked out I’ve jumped back in time a bit. Pat’s a Gemini. That places these pictures in June sometime. Around about the time Bertha arrived on the scene, but before the major refurbishments were carried out.
Why, therefore, are these pictures relevant?
For one thing, they summon up the spirit of the times rather admirably. See the expression on Simon’s face. Also the stylish Victory Square party furnishings.
For another thing, they pretty much prove that Yaya and Simon were good friends even then. As they remain to this day, in 2005.
For yet another thing, they include Libby. Again. I’m still working that one out.
For yetayeta nother thing, they amply demonstrate that 21st birthday parties are not what they used to be.
They also give me a breathing space while I work up to the central quandary of the entire Bertha saga: the big decision.
Who’s on the bus?
We’ll find out. But first, a brief detour. To one of the best afternoons of music any self-respecting head could hope to experience…
posted by Mark Gamon at 6:47 pm
11 Comments:
Can't wait.
Music is lifes ebb and flow, connecting the streams of conciousness to that of being.
...and it's just fucking good.
God. Some of those people look seriously ill. I hope you didn't have to call an ambulence....
They were feeling rather well at the time, curiously...
"Where is this bus going?"
"Feltham"
"No, not recently".
I bloody warned you.
Did you see the picture of the Ramobile?
http://k.phillips1.users.btopenworld.com/Ramobile.html
So much more stylish than a bus. Only did 4 miles to the gallon, however.
So that's what that thing is. I'm impressed. I think I'm probably MEANT to be impressed, looking at it. Did it ever leave the country?
Your truly appalling jokes are exactly what we need here in the back of the Earthtruck, Vicus. Glad you could join us. I will duly append your link...
Oh thank goodness - I was just about to offer to hold his hand.
But I wanted him to wash it first.
Wash? WASH? What kind of bloody hippy are you?
The Ramobile did once go to Wales.
It also got stuck in a ditch in Dunkirk.
Punchline to follow.
Dunkirk is a hamlet about 4 miles from Talke Pits.
Shall I get off at the next stop?
Has anyone noticed that the cushions behind Simon's head in the photograph looks remarkably like the curtains in Bertha?
Sorry Vicus . I just don't get it.
No, no, Vicus. Please stay. This has all the hallmarks of a parallel transport story. I suspect the Ramobile had none of yer nancy southern soft furnishings on the inside.
I will explain to Yaya. Cushions indeed.
Yaya are you getting into interior decorating?
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