It's hard going back thirty years or more. Trying to recapture the you that you were is like trying to see your old face beneath the caricature you now see each day in the mirror. Remembering how you felt and why you felt that way is even harder, pinpointing all this to less than a couple of hours a haystack needle hunt. My mind tells me that it has to be done though, so here goes.
I once loved
Elizabeth Fraser, just for a lifetime and of course it was from a distance,
only a few yards, but a
distance nonetheless as she sang and swayed in the
basement of a Birmingham
club as the pearly dewdrops dropped and as I watched her hypnotic swaying. Five pounds and eighty minutes or so of
passionate adoration and then a bus ride home. Edgy, smoke filled, sticky floored,
reel to reeled, big haired boy thug happiness. Her diminutive swirly swirl, her
immaculate voice as pearly as dewdrops dropping again, so far away from the
mundane existence I’d trapped my silly self into.
Wait, it wasn’t so bad really. But it wasn’t what I’d mapped and I
knew that I’d fallen into a falling into, something so comfortable that the
sticky treacle of the comfort kept me from moving.
Not moving, easier than pushing a way forwards.
I’d like to say that those eighty minutes of far too hot
green leather jacket listening, booted black and grey pad straightjacket
trousers, made all the difference. But they didn’t. So I just loved Elizabeth from my few
yards of distance whilst the twins twanged their guitars and life and laziness made
those yards into light years. Pink, orange, red, as I blew a faint kiss towards
her pallid face then ambled out of the sticky floored club, her voice still
soaring in my ears, to catch the number 63 bus home to Perry Barr and ordinary oblivion.
I still love Elizabeth ,
but the choices we make reveal the true nature of our character, more’s the
shame.
It is far too easy to walk away from danger isn’t it?
Lynda Henderson on FB
ReplyDeleteLove them too!!! Must be why I'm thinking of Las Vegas!
Paul Whitehouse on FB
ReplyDeleteGreat Barr, red kitchen, immaculate garden, Scritti Politti
Emma Cholmondeley on FB
ReplyDeleteWas ordinary oblivion such a bad thing? Bonfire night parties, snowy winters, fancy dress madness, Thompson Twins, spaghetti bolognese and conkers? Dreary, ordinary, boring....for some maybe - for others not so.
Andrew Height
DeleteWell spotted Emma, my whole point was that it wasn't a bad thing. As I said it is far too easy to walk away from the danger. Not moving is far easier than pushing forwards. It took a lot to push me.
Mike King on FB
ReplyDeleteThey came from Grangemouth which as places go is probably one of the most dreary places I've been to. I'm guessing their genius was their rebellion against the tedium and gray grimness of the place.
Andrew Height
DeleteGrim Mike, grim.
Karen Scrace on FB
ReplyDeleteDidn't realise you lived in Birmingham at one time. I used to go to Bobby Browns occasionally as had a friend in Kings Norton!
Andrew Height
DeleteI lived there for about 7 years. Simon LeBon used to serve me lager at the Rum Runner and I once bought a leather jacket from Boy George in Oasis. I've been around a bit you know!
...and I went to Bobby Browns a couple of times although King Tut's on the Hagley Road was the place at one tine.