Out in the streets
On Thursday evening I spent some time with PL, Mr Huke and Ms Forsyth (as well as Ms Clough and a new beau, briefly), in London's fashionable Shoreditch. I must say I had a fantastic time chewing the fat, laughing, and generally catching up on things. I hope we don't leave it a year to get together again.I got the 55 down Old Street to get myself back to Holborn, then home.
It must have been the Modelo Especials I'd been drinking, or maybe the way the night was falling slowly, or something else altogether, but I felt an overwhelming nostalgia.
I thought about the nights I had gotten a night bus into the West End at 3 in the morning with toocoolforschool, after a night at the 333,
looked towards the Honorable Artillery Company, where we used to have our opulent work summer parties (before the cash began to dry up),
looked over at St Luke Old Street, the church in which my mother's ancestors were married and baptised (it now belongs to the LSO and is beautifully light up at night),
glanced down Whitecross Street and remembered my nights drinking with Mr Johns and his flatmate Andrea in their local,
noticed that the crossroads where the Society for Genealogists is has been spruced up, and recalled trudging up and down Goswell Street in the short period of time when I was a penniless family history researcher,
realised that the 24 hour garage round the corner from Clerkenwell Green is closed - previously our lifeline for cash and chocolate while in the queue for the Heavenly Social,
cast my mind back to all the times I have walked up the Clerkenwell Road and back, past Leather Lane, up to the Yorkshire Grey, bought forbidden slices of cake from Konditor and Cook, wandered over to Jockey's Fields for lunch,
past Holborn Library, a hidden gem,
the Fryer's Delight, the newsagent I used to buy the leaving cards for my staff in, one of my old locals, the Queens Head (now boarded up),
Lacon House, where I spent so many years working.
Losing memories is becoming a problem. Sometimes I find myself grasping for a name or face, and that sort of thing never used to be a problem. Total recall, that was me. There's just too much stuff in my brain now. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's just there are so many fun times, warm people, beautiful places that get forgotten and it's nobody's fault (before you say it - I still will not use Facebook). I felt very happy on Thursday evening to recall some of those times, people, places once more.
And now work as well as home is in the suburbs, I find myself missing town very much.
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On an unrelated note, what the fuck is Sharleen Spiteri doing ripping off The Shangri-Las Out in the Streets on her new single? Don't any of you dare say talent borrow, genius steals - in my opinion, the SL's are untouchable.
posted by deafdisco @ 8:42 pm
2 Comments:
That suggests that Sharleen actually wrote the track and actually knows something about music. Her album says she wrote and produced it which means she got a friend to do it for her and she took the credit (as is the way with most 'artists' nowadays who claim to be writing and producing their own stuff).
The fact that she heard it and didn't realise straight away that it was a copy of a Shangri-Las song shows just how little she actually knows about music!
Funny you should mention that, I have it on good authority that U2 haven't written a song of their own in years...
The thing that made me doubly suspicious about the song in particular is that Spiteri appears to have re-modelled her image in a 60s girl-group stylee. I just can't believe that she is being dumb about this. After all, one of her most famous songs with Texas was a straight rip-off of Sexual Healing by Marvin Gaye - so she has previous!
Thanks for commenting Marionette!
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