New Year's Resolutions are starting early here on It Starts With a Birthstone. I've been up with the larks and down the gentle slope of The New Dover Road in Canterbury towards the Holy Grail; namely Waitrose armed with a shopping list and a trolley. It's the toughest task in the world, shopping for a ninety year old mother.
Waitrose in Canterbury is a fine place. Shop assistants go out of their way to help you, My mother thinks they are contract bound to do so. To put down what they're doing and take you to the object you're seeking. Anyway I'm back. Having stopped off at the post box on St Augustine's Avenue where my sister in law lives. Where my brother died nine years ago. Ten years next year.
I put a postcard in the box. To an old friend, who I haven't seen for many years. And an unfinished packet of cigarettes in the bin. I think I've had enough. For this year anyway. And now I'm back. Not bearing Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh but Hollandaise Sauce and yoghurt. And now I'm sitting at my laptop with my headphones on listening to Horses, Not by Patti Smith but by Tobacco City an early Christmas Gift from the much mentioned first mate of It Starts With a Birthstone, Darren Jones AKA Starbuck.
It's a beautiful, old school new school Amerericana C&W treasure trove of tragedy. regret and new resolve. Another fine record Starbuck, Mud in your eye and help yourself to grog as you please. Onwood we sail . To the horizon that can never be reached
Glad you liked it, Bruce! It's a good one. Also, you've reminded me that I have been creating an annual playlist of favourite country songs over recent years, so I'd better get started on it!
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