And here's something I forgot - I seem to forget more things these days - perhaps that's to do with me - or perhaps more things are more instantly forgettable. Anyway, another thing about the bulge . . .
Our first, real, growing up ("teenager") music - our "own" music - was in the 1960s. That was when (post-Elvis) music was created. And that has lasted with us. So when I decided to take my daughter's black lab for a walk this afternoon, and he insisted on being taken my local (The Masons) I wasn't particularly surprised at what transpired - but very happy with it.
As I may mentioned, The Masons' Arms is the haunt of the most miserable, grumpy, foul-mouthed, bunch of racist, xenophobic, sexist, homophobic, old gits that you would ever wish not to meet. I take it as something of a challenge to my own liberal, tolerant, politically correct (in "my day" we used to call it "ideologically sound" - but tongue-in-cheek), inclinations. Whatever our differences, once some 19602 stuff comes on the jukebox we all start to join in. Off-key, perhaps, even raucous, but the songs demand singing. So no great surprise this afternoon that a horrid choir (including me) let loose. By coincidence today it seemed to be songs about women. So we assaulted - Minnie the Moocher, Long Tall Sally, Runaround Sue, Sweet Sixteen, (She Wore) Blue Velvet and a great pile of others.
Coming to a pub near you - unless you watch out.