A candyfloss head

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Anna, Anna, do not distress yourself. Surely you did not think I would leave you out of all of this. And also, have you noticed that Purple Cow sends her regards AND points out that the award is for the 'George Says' Blog and so it is for you as well? I too would be interested to see what 10 things you will list. As for my 'peculiar habits'... well, you never compained before!

But enough of you - let's talk about me.

Red-rimmed eyes in a desperate face stare out at me from the mirror. Who is this stranger? What is he doing in my bathroom? Call Security!


Okay, so I had a drink last night. Well, a couple. I had promised myself that when I finished this course of antibiotics I would drink lots of beer,and then fall over; actually, I had a pint of lager and a whisky (or three). I didn't fall over.  I slept well but the next morning I had a candyfloss head.

Well of course Brian would know all about ‘Georgie Porgie’, lover of King James I! But Georgie (or George Villiers, first duke of Buckingham, as he was better known) was happy to swing both ways, and managed to keep a lot of ladies happy (including Anne of Austria, who was married to Louis XIII of France at the time). Oh yes, Georgie was a bit of a bugger (no pun intended), and it was only the King’s patronage that kept him out of serious trouble. Finally parliament had had enough (no doubt they were jealous) and stopped the King from intervening on the duke’s behalf, thereby putting a bit of a dampener on Georgie’s career.

I know that you are aware of this, Anna, but perhaps you could tell Brian that I am not attracted, in any way, to my own sex. I had a few chums at school, and okay one of them was the captain of the First XI, but that was as far as it went.

You know the old joke, Anna: Life is a sexually transmitted disease, with a 100%  mortality?
Well, I think Life should come with a government health warning:

Not: "This product can kill you." But: "This product WILL kill you – in the end."
Still, as the hero in “The Black Obelisk” says: 'Since we lose in the end, anyway, we can give ourselves the luxury of winning beforehand.'
Let's do that - shall we?

I was so glad to hear from you, Anna. (I am feeling pretty dire at the moment). And it is good to know that your love for me is undemolished. I am not sure, though, that I like the idea of you talking to Freddie about me; discussing my case, it sounds like. Still, I suppose you both are doing your best for me. And believe me, I certainly need somebody's best being done for me.

I am beset by problems. Decisions of a fiscal (and emotional) nature which I do not intend to burden you with right now. I keep thinking of the song 'Irene, Goodnight':

Sometimes I live in the country,
Sometimes I live in the town -
Sometimes I take a great notion
To go jump in the river and drown.

They say drowning is not a bad way to die, that once you give up fighting for breath it is relatively peaceful. The river here used to be very polluted, but they cleaned it up and now salmon swim in it. So it would not really be fair on the salmon to suddenly have a human being threshing about in their midst, and then expiring and sinking to the bottom. Well, you wouldn't want it in your living room.

(note: In the final verse of the original 'Leadbelly' song he sings I'll take morphine and die. )

Marianne Faithful sings about Sister Morphine, and I can understand why. Some years ago I  had back pain so severe that a doctor was called, and he gave me a shot of morphine. Almost immediately I felt like I was floating away on a lovely warm sea. What a way to go.

When you think about it, Religion is a dying trade.

 If people were not afraid of dying there would be no religion. Religion deals in death – even though it sells ‘eternal life’.

Some people are so afraid of facing this great leap into the unknown that they will clutch at any bent straw; swallow any old load of nonsense, if it promises them ‘eternal life’.
I am afraid of dying – but I am trying to get along without religion. (Spirituality is something else. Sally Brampton quotes an ex alcoholic: Religion is for those who are afraid of going to hell. Spirituallity is for those who have been there.

I find it hard to conceive of a time when I will not exist. In fact, I consider it a damn shame if I cease to exist; what a waste of talent. But I have to consider that if I can survive death then so can my cat; and so can all the other animals, and the worms in my garden, and all the insects and the fishes. And, I mean, where are they going to put us all?

This is not a trivial question. And here is another important question: Suppose I have been married three times, my first two spouses having died, then to whom shall I be wed in the afterlife?
Ah, but – say the clerics – there is no marriage in heaven. Oh, so it’s ‘free love’ then? I'm afraid not, they tell me: you won’t need sex because you won’t have a body; bodies are only for this earthly plane. Fair enough. But my friend, Gervaise, says he lives for sex – so he’s going to be disappointed then. Best take Andrew Marvel’s advice to his Coy Mistress, and get it on while you can.

And without a body you can’t drink beer, wine or whisky; you can't smoke, enjoy chololate. If you haven't got a body  you won't be able to ride a horse or a motor-bike, or swim or skate or play tennis. So what are we going to do in the 'afterlife'? Sit around and sing hymns? But no, you can't even sit around, because you haven't got an arse.

Yes, you need to think carefully about the eternal life package they are selling you. Read the small print; get a another quote.


(And by the way, Anna, Gervaise is the 'friend' whose name you could not remember - and why on earth does Freddie say I should be careful of my friends?)

It occurred to me the other day, what were things before they were cool?
Of course, in the sixties things were Fab. The Beatles being the "Fab Four".

Jazz musicians used to talk about things being solid. "Solid man, solid." Other expressions came from jazz: "He plays a mean trombone." And, of course, hip.
Did hip give rise to the "Hippies".?
And before the Hippies there were the Beatniks. What expression did they use?


Talking of the Beatniks, I recall a scene from a black and white film: A room, with beatniks lying about on the floor, smoking; off their heads on dope.

1st. Beatnik: Hey, what's that up there, man?
2nd Beatnik: That's the ceiling.
1st. Beatnik: Best place for it.

Ah, golden days. Where have they all gone?

Why do we bother, Anna? All this time, this effort, this sweating and grunting and straining - and for what? A couple of lines in the obituary column of the local paper?
And all this writing - what's all that about?
Magritte, when asked why he painted, said "Life compels me to do something - so I paint."
Maybe that's as good an answer as anything.

I still haven't recovered my taste or smell  after this ferocious infection. If you can't taste and you can't smell, there's two dimensions of your life gone. The sense of smell is so important. One of the 'ten things I love' - which I was going to write down but didn't - is 'The smell of memories'.

I should like to end this piece on an optimistic note - a sort of  'Top C' - that would be real solid, man; mean, hip, cool. But I cannot hit Top C this morning. Maybe tomorrow?

So I think I will let Clive have the last word (he still hasn't started his own blog)

It comes as no surprise to me,
To learn I once lived in a tree
And that a monkey is my cousin -
Well not just one, but several dozen -
For often, when I go outdoors,
The urge to walk upon all fours,
Swing from a lamp-post, just for fun,
Quite suddenly comes over one.

Yes, though you think you're very cute,
You're just a monkey in a suit.