Tag Archives: music

the unexpected

23 Replies

Girl1′s bedroom looks like a shiny magazine exploded all over the walls. A few family pics and IKEA prints are surrounded by the many faces of One Direction. I did eventually figure out which one is which, but that lasts only until hairstyles change. At least when JLS were the big band, I only had to remember the cute one, Aston. In One Direction, they all are acceptable, but Niall is the favourite.

a wee treat for Girl1

a wee treat for Girl1

Most of the One Direction things wash over me. “Hmmm”, “That’s nice, pet”,  and other vaguenesses. This, however, made me laugh.

All the fun parts of Downton Abbey, avoiding the woeful story lines. I even found myself singing along (but don’t tell Girl1)

wise words from one so young

11 Replies

Ambling along, me and the two Jakes. Our Jake, the snorey, smelly bundle most often found under foot. Jake Bugg, the teenager providing musical accompaniment for this morning’s walk.

Humming along through the streets, past the bakery (it’s been fancy flats for a few years, but the bricks appear to hold the memory, the merest hint, of many yummy smells) and along the river. Each of us in our own world.

Then, a pause. Play that again. What’s it called?

Common sense from an unexpected source.

Girl, you’ve been forgetting
Just how special you really are
And I try to remind you
Sometimes I can’t find you
But the truth is in your heart

So write a note to yourself

Girl, don’t beat yourself up
Your best is good enough
So pick the pen up

So write a note to yourself,
A note to yourself
And don’t be cruel,
‘Cause things do happen
And you know it’s not your fault
Don’t cover your wounds with the salt

Girl, let me tell you what I see
You’ve got to believe me
You’re a thing of beauty

Girl, put it in an envelope
Put it in the post
It’ll come back to your door

So write a note to yourself,
A note to yourself
And don’t be cruel,
‘Cause things do happen
And you know it’s not your fault
Don’t cover your wounds with the salt

And write a note to yourself
And read the note to yourself

out to lunch

12 Replies

My neighbours probably know when I get up. Everybody else could be up and about on a Sunday morning, and all will be quietish. Girly giggles, a fluffy woof or two, but generally quiet. Once I get up the radio goes on, and stays on. I potter through my days with the background burbling of Lauren, Mark and Simon. At the weekend it’s Cerys, Graham and Jarvis. At times I have to put my book down stop the vital work I’m doing, and investigate further- what was that person’s name? Oh, I like that- I wonder what else they’ve done?

I would love to be musical myself, but I haven’t a note. A family full of singers, dancers and musicians, but I got none of it. (I have two left feet, the primary school choir didn’t want me, and everyone was glad when I stopped murdering a violin.) There’s nothing I can do about it, except enjoy everyone else’s skill.

The dark days of January are brightened round these parts by the Out to Lunch Festival- there are evening performances too, but lunchtime is perfect for me. This year I went to see young local folky type Niamh McGlinchey, always fun singer songwriter Kieran Goss, and the rather awesome Arlo Guthrie. Like the performers they are, each left me wanting more.

.

.

Chat, music, laughter, tears, outrage. Lunch included in the price.

Oddly, I’ve done more music shopping since.