First, I want to apologise for this one although I don’t know why I’m apologising to you. For all I know you might love this song. But it sets my teeth on edge. I can feel a twitch starting in my right shoulder and my eyes are screwing up as if I were squinting against last year’s glorious sunshine. I had a real job trying to remember any songs from last summer to answer Twindaddy’s question of which song reminded me of that time.
Getting on a bit now, at 53, my poor brain finds it difficult to remember what I was doing an hour ago or what I walked into a room for. Ask me about thirty years ago and I’ll regale you with in-depth detail on colours, sights and sounds. But last year feels like a bit of a blur.
Apart from my age then, oh to be 52 again, there was the problem with vitamin D levels that was uncovered and went a long way to explaining why I felt like crap all the time, falling asleep at the drop of a hat and limbs full of aches and pains. I thought it was decrepiticity (it should be a word) arriving and was just about to break out cod liver oil for impending brittle bones and was preparing snide comebacks for a family of ingrates that think seeing their mother keeling over on the couch in snoring oblivion is a great hoot.
Thanks to frantic research on the internet I found out what was wrong with me all by my lonesome and requested additional blood tests. Bingo. Guess what you need to up vitamin D levels that have plummeted to below 20? Huge doses of natural source and supplements.
Now, as it happens, last summer was a beezer here in old Scotia. Marked in calendars everywhere as one of the best. Sun. Sun. And then some more. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when the doctor signed me off work and told me to get as much as I could. Minus the sunscreen for part of the time. Parts of the time? Aye, like that was gonna happen. I lay in a lounger, read some, dozed some, turned over, baked myself and turned and then basted for browning. Done to a ‘T’ I was. And I love the sun. Worship wouldn’t be too far off the mark.
Anyway, what this has to do with music and what I’m about to post is a bit vague, I know. But I had to write something. And, other than beginning blogging last June because my sister told my brother that I was vegetating in the house, unable to do any chores or even concentrate on TV, there’s not a damn lot else I remember. Brother set me up with a blog. Ta da! Go Phil. Go Veronica for telling him in the first place.
Sunshine and a new interest and huge supplements did the trick.
So, to the song. I’m trying to delay the inevitable here.
I’ll give you some clues. As some of you may know, I’ve got 7 sprogs of my own and I teach primary school kids on a daily basis. As much as I can’t consume a whole one at a single sitting, I do love weans. Except.
Except when they inflict things on you.
Anyone with offspring or nieces and nephews knows what I mean. Whatever is flavour of the month for them becomes your viewing, your listening. I sat through so many demos of this in school. Each kid prouder than the last that they had mastered the art.
My own wee yin, 6 then, had practised with her older sisters who’d seen the movie and nothing would do but that Anna should display her skills to her class. Whereupon the teacher sent her around the rest of the classes to show just what she could do. And she did. Song and actions.
Now I should probably have complained here at the fact that the teacher was probably snickering and using my wee doll for a spot of light entertainment. But what the feck. We teachers don’t get that many opportunities for a laugh in the face of mounting pressure to be everybody’s mammy or daddy. Whole other post.
Have you guessed yet?
Well, I’m not going to post the video here. I just can’t. But I will provide the link. Have at it! And this is a memory of last summer I hope will fade in time. No offence to the young lady in question and the multitude of tween followers she gathered.