11 Mar 2016

And Then An Antidote...

After reading the poem at Private Secret Diary, and as much as I could relate to the words, I found it wasn’t exactly the motivational sort of read I need at oh-eight hundred hours AM o’clock of a morning so I went on a hunt for an antidote to the mild feeling of melancholy those words slipped into my mind.

For younger readers, melancholy is defined as ‘a feeling of thoughtful sadness’ and  is not a new pizza comprising melon and cauliflower topped with pepperoni and cheese. Nor is it descriptive of the shape or colour of a breed of dog.

The antidote to melancholy had slipped into the dark grey muddy bit inside my head while I was digesting the words of the poem. I found the item and you, in turn, will find it below. Go on; smile a while as I did.
Too Old To Rock’n’Roll: Too Young To Die. How true is that then?

Timidadians, before you click please be advised there are shocking scenes depicting the act of smoking.


If that little ditty took you back a bitty, back to 1976 for heavens sake, the full LP's here. Say what now? Oh, right. The full album’s there then. 

Anyhoo, thank heavens I’m not 64... Haaay, wait a minute, 64 came and went five short years ago!  Damn! And there’s still so little to do and, hopefully, so much time.

Quote;  Andy Rooney.

“It's paradoxical that the idea of living a long life appeals to everyone, but the idea of getting old doesn't appeal to anyone.”


Caratacus said...

Well this is your fault, Mac. Your reminding me of Ian Anderson led me - via several byways - to the Saor Patrol, of whom you must already be aware. Hypnotic stuff: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cimoH9ErHRc

Knowing that you keep a beady eye on the ole Caratacus armoury, I'm sure that you will be delighted to learn that it has increased recently to the tune of one: the dear Lady Memsahib diverted funds from that part of her economy more usually related to viands, cakes and ales to the provision of an additional longbow (this time a 78" 90lb s*d of a thing) in celebration of my 63rd. Well short of your innings, I know, but still a source of some surprise that I have managed to make it thus far relatively unscathed. I think another gargle of the old pickling fluid may be in order :-)

Mac said...

All the best for 63. Be well my friend but try not to blink as you’ll find you’re 64.
The bow sounds like a winner and I trust you got some of they pointy thingies wot no bow should be without.
Thanks for the link as I had never heard of them. Thoroughly enjoy their sound and they sure seem like hale and hearty fellows.
Try this one, although I’m sure you have, and wonder if this is a recreation of the past or a vision of our last redoubt of the future as we lose ever more ground to the overwhelming numbers of our newest bestest ever friends...

Ripper said...

One of my favourite tracks of all time. It could almost be describing myself, except that I haven't stopped rocking or rolling and have no intentions of doing so.. still, its very true that the rest of the gang have either died in bike accidents or got married with kids and 'thrown away the blue suede shoes' as the song puts it.

As you know I still have the Triumph Bonneville (my 3rd) and did once own the Harley - that was when it dawned on me about the fakers and fair weather people. I went to a promotional meeting at the Harley dealers and I kid you not, I was the only one there who had turned up on a bike. The car park was full of 4x4's, BMW's and Audis.

But as an upside, the Ace cafe is still going strong. And the Easter charity run takes place in the morning. Not all of us have disappeared.

Mac said...

Yes, a great track.
I sincerely wish you a great ride out come Easter and trust this tack will be keeping you company through your ear buds. As you tear up the rod, please watch out for that old guy ahead hogging the middle of the road!! It just might be me...
Here’s a quote to keep you company and share with your fellow riders:
“I've enjoyed every age I've been, and each has had its own individual merit. Every laugh line, every scar is a badge I wear to show I've been present, the inner rings of my personal tree trunk that I display proudly for all to see. Nowadays, I don't want a ‘perfect’ face and body; I want to wear the life I've lived.” Pat Benatar

Enjoy your days my friend.

Caratacus said...

Thanks Mac, hadn't seen that one. Thought I recognised the Wallace's great sword in the middle there somewhere.

Also, do you remember the leader of the Gauls in the opening battle of "Gladiator"? Presented his credentials by hurling the head of a Roman emissary from him in a somewhat terse reply to the overtures of the otherwise revered Marcus Aurelius ... well that was the piper of the Saor Patrol. He has history, you know :-)

Mac said...

Thanks for the information Sir. It’ll come in tremendously useful for the next wine and cheesy nibbles party I’m invited to.
I’ll use that little gem to hold other guests spellbound and speechless as I stand at the centre of attention, glass of Bojolly in one hand and a cheesy nibble on a stick in the other, little finger extended, and recount the story in that lofty, authoritative manner so beloved of academics, politicians and the criminally insane until, as it seems destiny intended, I find myself alone again and so gravitate towards the kitchen. You’ll always find me in the kitchen at parties. Whoa! There’s another old song in there...

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