Thinking of you saying farewell to your father, Seb. Of course 1984 can wait.
I was just thinking of what to write up this week, and it may well include a 1984 memory or two.
I watched a terrific film last night with my partner and 22-year old son: My Old Ass, starring Aubrey Plaza plus a young cast I didn't know. What would your 39-year old self say to your 18-year old self if you could go back in time? (The premise is clear from the start, so that's not a spoiler.) I didn't have high hopes from the title, but we all thought it was wonderful. Recommend, once you have a bit of breathing space.
Obvious thoughts - the future of US democracy and of the planet as a whole (Trump's reelection obviously weighing heavily on my mind). I turned 20 in 84 and was on the dole - not a memorable time. Music? Wayne Shorter, Haitian, classic R&B, cheap LPs/45s I picked up at Flashback etc.
I've been remembering 1989 and not 1984. I was in Berlin when the Berlin Wall came down. That was something. I have pieces of the Wall that I broke off with a hammer and chisel, and in fact put a Facebook post together about it last night.
I'm listening right now to Patricia Kopatchinskaja's recording of Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, having just played a recording of Stravinsky's Les Noces laid down by Teodor Currentzis in 2016. Two gems!
I would want to head out for a good walk after lunch but there is drizzling rain here on the northern Lancashire coast, so that's a maybe/maybe not situation there!
I'm on holiday next week, but with no fixed plans other than Carlisle on Monday. I've just started rereading Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment in the Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky translation. One of the most profound experiences I have had was my first reading of this novel when I was a much younger man.
It sounds like you are both busy and exhausted. Wishing you well, and we'll all pick up your diary when the time is right for you to post it. Happy Sunday!
Ah, 1984. Starting Clarendon College - no longer in existence - in Nottingham. Finally getting to do what I wanted but not with the people I wanted to be with. Plenty of nights on the piss in the Hippo Club, again, no longer exists. Wayward, unsettled. Somethings don't change.
Take a week off. Take more. We can wait, even though I always look forward to the next installment. My heart goes out to you right now, Seb.
Condolences, Baz. I didn’t know John nearly as well as I know Helga. My main memories are of a funny, eccentric scout leader with whom we walked from Speldurst to Chiddingstone, one wettish summer, to camp by the river Eden near Somerden. I remember getting wet legs walking through the long grass, then marvelling at how my trousers dried as we continued our scout march. I always remember that walk when I get wet legs on a walk. A bit like how I remember camping on Piltdown golf course when there’s a hard frost.
You asked what your readers are doing… my day consisted of church (yes, church. Remembrance Sunday hosted by our rather amazing vicar, Canon John.) Then I made a raised bed to add to our collection of raised beds, cut the grass and am now awaiting friends’ arrival from Wales. Venison chilli and butternut curry. I’ll raise a glass of red to you all, and, of course, to John.
According to my own 1984 diary entry, on 7 November Ronald Reagan got elected as president of USA and the actor playing Joe Grundy died ("sad"). On 8 November many people were killed in a typhoon in the Philippines. As well as that I recorded some Wham off the radio for my friend and bought the single Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty for another friend for her birthday.
You are all lovely. Greetings from Milan. I don't recommend Lime bikes on these cobbled streets. There are so many amazing connections even in your disparate replies. Katya mentioning Gerry Rafferty on that day in '84 and bro Jim Rafferty chipping in here too. Katya your diary sounds much more worldly wise. Wendy, did you ever write about Gerry? Ok your mag was Just 17, maybe not his audience, but Baker Street was so massive! Garth is a music writer too. Tony, Katya and I were in Berlin for the fall of the wall too. Would love to see your pics. Will send mine. Chaz, camping by the river at the bottom of your lane, and falling in with. The whole night hikes thing we got into was probably quite a lot my dad's influence. And yeah Piltdown... Oct 83? Specifically the teeing off square on the golf course. Fucking freezing. Frankie, "Wayward, unsettled. Some things don't change." Um, yep. And Garth, the most widely listening person I know music wise, maybe apart from Tony, so in '84 Reagan was elected. Now Trump, and we're gonna be unsettled for quite a few years. Economy of course, and encouragement to nationalists, but above all environmentally...
That's a busy and challenging week Seb. My mother, Sheenadh, died earlier this year, so I have some sense of what you're going through. What I have learned is that the stages of grief are not linear.
I'm in Brighton and nervously watching the webcams as in less than four weeks, I'll be in the Alps for the first of this winter's press trips and there is zero snow. That can change quickly, but if you ask what's on my mind, I see that the industry I've worked in the last 35 years will only exist in fragments in another thirty-five.
Hi Iain, I didn’t know that Sheenadh had died this year. I am sorry. She taught me how to use a sewing machine by tutoring actual proper clothes out of me, that I could wear, aged 5! Mum and Dad packed me off to your house in Hever (I think of it as ‘The Acorn House’) for a week while they went on holiday to Athens in c1975. Not sure where Stuart, Charles & Felicity went, but I got a darned good deal that week. I recently moved to Edinburgh for a few months and ‘Sewing machine’ was top of my packing list. Fond memories of your very special mum.
Hi Seb and hope things are settling down a little for you a little.
I’ve got 1984 memory for you, at least I think it was 1984, pretty sure it was but I’m old! Every year at this time this memory pops into my head as we hurtle ever earlier towards Christmas and choirs are rehearsing carols.
You’ll remember the annual Judd Carol Service at St Stephen’s? Tradition was, as with many choirs, a treble soloist would sing the first verse of “Once in royal David’s City” as an unaccompanied solo. It was my first big music event as a music teacher at Judd and I was bricking it. I nodded to the soloist (can’t remember his name) who began singing.
So you know the first phrase for the words “Once in royal…” rises - D, F#, G - well, he was very nervous and his F# was so sharp, it was practically a G, which, of course, gives you the first three notes of “Hark the herald angels sing”. So off he went, singing the words of Once in royal to the tune of Hark the herald (you’re trying it out now aren’t you!).
I’m wondering how to get out of this as the soloist was adamant! Another quick nod to Roger Evernden on the organ and eventually, by line 4, we were back in the same universe.
Never happened again, but every year, when I nod to the soloist, I smile inside, apprehensively!
That's a lovely story Sophie. We had two celebrations - one in Australia and one in the UK - and what was very evident was how many people she had helped, taught and coached over the years.
Thinking of you saying farewell to your father, Seb. Of course 1984 can wait.
I was just thinking of what to write up this week, and it may well include a 1984 memory or two.
I watched a terrific film last night with my partner and 22-year old son: My Old Ass, starring Aubrey Plaza plus a young cast I didn't know. What would your 39-year old self say to your 18-year old self if you could go back in time? (The premise is clear from the start, so that's not a spoiler.) I didn't have high hopes from the title, but we all thought it was wonderful. Recommend, once you have a bit of breathing space.
Obvious thoughts - the future of US democracy and of the planet as a whole (Trump's reelection obviously weighing heavily on my mind). I turned 20 in 84 and was on the dole - not a memorable time. Music? Wayne Shorter, Haitian, classic R&B, cheap LPs/45s I picked up at Flashback etc.
I've been remembering 1989 and not 1984. I was in Berlin when the Berlin Wall came down. That was something. I have pieces of the Wall that I broke off with a hammer and chisel, and in fact put a Facebook post together about it last night.
I'm listening right now to Patricia Kopatchinskaja's recording of Schoenberg's Pierrot Lunaire, having just played a recording of Stravinsky's Les Noces laid down by Teodor Currentzis in 2016. Two gems!
I would want to head out for a good walk after lunch but there is drizzling rain here on the northern Lancashire coast, so that's a maybe/maybe not situation there!
I'm on holiday next week, but with no fixed plans other than Carlisle on Monday. I've just started rereading Dostoyevsky's Crime and Punishment in the Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky translation. One of the most profound experiences I have had was my first reading of this novel when I was a much younger man.
It sounds like you are both busy and exhausted. Wishing you well, and we'll all pick up your diary when the time is right for you to post it. Happy Sunday!
Thinking of The Merricks at this sad time .
Thinking of The Merricks 'round this time, Sebastian - love from The Raffs. xx
Ah, 1984. Starting Clarendon College - no longer in existence - in Nottingham. Finally getting to do what I wanted but not with the people I wanted to be with. Plenty of nights on the piss in the Hippo Club, again, no longer exists. Wayward, unsettled. Somethings don't change.
Take a week off. Take more. We can wait, even though I always look forward to the next installment. My heart goes out to you right now, Seb.
Condolences, Baz. I didn’t know John nearly as well as I know Helga. My main memories are of a funny, eccentric scout leader with whom we walked from Speldurst to Chiddingstone, one wettish summer, to camp by the river Eden near Somerden. I remember getting wet legs walking through the long grass, then marvelling at how my trousers dried as we continued our scout march. I always remember that walk when I get wet legs on a walk. A bit like how I remember camping on Piltdown golf course when there’s a hard frost.
You asked what your readers are doing… my day consisted of church (yes, church. Remembrance Sunday hosted by our rather amazing vicar, Canon John.) Then I made a raised bed to add to our collection of raised beds, cut the grass and am now awaiting friends’ arrival from Wales. Venison chilli and butternut curry. I’ll raise a glass of red to you all, and, of course, to John.
All the best. Love to the family.
According to my own 1984 diary entry, on 7 November Ronald Reagan got elected as president of USA and the actor playing Joe Grundy died ("sad"). On 8 November many people were killed in a typhoon in the Philippines. As well as that I recorded some Wham off the radio for my friend and bought the single Baker Street by Gerry Rafferty for another friend for her birthday.
You are all lovely. Greetings from Milan. I don't recommend Lime bikes on these cobbled streets. There are so many amazing connections even in your disparate replies. Katya mentioning Gerry Rafferty on that day in '84 and bro Jim Rafferty chipping in here too. Katya your diary sounds much more worldly wise. Wendy, did you ever write about Gerry? Ok your mag was Just 17, maybe not his audience, but Baker Street was so massive! Garth is a music writer too. Tony, Katya and I were in Berlin for the fall of the wall too. Would love to see your pics. Will send mine. Chaz, camping by the river at the bottom of your lane, and falling in with. The whole night hikes thing we got into was probably quite a lot my dad's influence. And yeah Piltdown... Oct 83? Specifically the teeing off square on the golf course. Fucking freezing. Frankie, "Wayward, unsettled. Some things don't change." Um, yep. And Garth, the most widely listening person I know music wise, maybe apart from Tony, so in '84 Reagan was elected. Now Trump, and we're gonna be unsettled for quite a few years. Economy of course, and encouragement to nationalists, but above all environmentally...
That's a busy and challenging week Seb. My mother, Sheenadh, died earlier this year, so I have some sense of what you're going through. What I have learned is that the stages of grief are not linear.
I'm in Brighton and nervously watching the webcams as in less than four weeks, I'll be in the Alps for the first of this winter's press trips and there is zero snow. That can change quickly, but if you ask what's on my mind, I see that the industry I've worked in the last 35 years will only exist in fragments in another thirty-five.
Hi Iain, I didn’t know that Sheenadh had died this year. I am sorry. She taught me how to use a sewing machine by tutoring actual proper clothes out of me, that I could wear, aged 5! Mum and Dad packed me off to your house in Hever (I think of it as ‘The Acorn House’) for a week while they went on holiday to Athens in c1975. Not sure where Stuart, Charles & Felicity went, but I got a darned good deal that week. I recently moved to Edinburgh for a few months and ‘Sewing machine’ was top of my packing list. Fond memories of your very special mum.
Hi Seb and hope things are settling down a little for you a little.
I’ve got 1984 memory for you, at least I think it was 1984, pretty sure it was but I’m old! Every year at this time this memory pops into my head as we hurtle ever earlier towards Christmas and choirs are rehearsing carols.
You’ll remember the annual Judd Carol Service at St Stephen’s? Tradition was, as with many choirs, a treble soloist would sing the first verse of “Once in royal David’s City” as an unaccompanied solo. It was my first big music event as a music teacher at Judd and I was bricking it. I nodded to the soloist (can’t remember his name) who began singing.
So you know the first phrase for the words “Once in royal…” rises - D, F#, G - well, he was very nervous and his F# was so sharp, it was practically a G, which, of course, gives you the first three notes of “Hark the herald angels sing”. So off he went, singing the words of Once in royal to the tune of Hark the herald (you’re trying it out now aren’t you!).
I’m wondering how to get out of this as the soloist was adamant! Another quick nod to Roger Evernden on the organ and eventually, by line 4, we were back in the same universe.
Never happened again, but every year, when I nod to the soloist, I smile inside, apprehensively!
Brilliant. I think I have a photo of said carol service. Will post at appropriate time!
That's a lovely story Sophie. We had two celebrations - one in Australia and one in the UK - and what was very evident was how many people she had helped, taught and coached over the years.