yet another quiet week in worthing so what should i write about? really don’t want to write at all and had resigned myself to the fact that nobody read this nonsense. it is my confessional. but it seems a few disconsolate souls await the next instalment. sadly i could name them – you know who you are. this is for you.
what have i done, where have i been? donegal again - if you die without seeing it you haven’t lived. elsewhere billy connelly was outrageous but predictable. cowboy junkies were magnificent. the producers was the best musical i have seen. but there has to be a highlight - don mclean? “we love you, don” someone shouted from the floor [who, why?] but he was gracious enough to reply “i know you do and that’s why i come back”. call me sentimental but that meant a lot to some of us old softies.
i met a girl who sang the blues
and i asked her for some happy news,
but she just smiled and turned away.
i went down to the sacred store
where I’d heard the music years before,
but the man there said the music wouldn’t play……
or –
flaming flowers that brightly blaze,
swirling clouds in violet haze,
reflect in vincent's eyes of china blue.
colours changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
weathered faces lined in pain,
are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
that’s life!
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