My parents didn't have much disposable income when I was growing up. They had a brood of five and my household was a place of toweled nappies and toys scattered across living room floors. But we were raised in a world of firm foundations. In a House of Love, Being called to the dinner table. Clear the plates. Do the washing up. Pack things away. Bed time stories. Night night. Sleep tight.
And a few records. My mother had the Seekers and The Carpenters. .My father Louis Armstrong and The Dutch Swing College Band. . So I'm listening to A World Of Our Own on a Sunday morning and flying on a magic carpet across time and space as music allows you to do to a hallowed space. Of hearth and home and my mother smiling and tucking her legs beneath her on the sofa in one of the beautiful patterned dresses she wore in the sixties. .My dad snapping the picture. One for the photo albums. Occasionally she took one. So he'd be remembered too.
I'm not sure I believe in the modern world. It strikes me as rather confused. As it's had its senses dulled I think I prefer the old one. When we had less distraction. And we didn't spend our whole time looking at a screen Lots of screens in 1984. But who is watching who.
'This land is your land. This land was made for you and me' That makes more sense to me. I'll take off The Seekers now and put on a Stereolab or Kraftwerk record. I do believe in the future too. .Must show willing.
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