When I’m Sixty-Four

Nothing much to do with London, except that it was recorded at Abbey Road studios. I wasn’t that far away as it later turned out. But to be frank I’m stretching a point to mention at all any of the following, in a blog ostensibly about London things.

You all know the song, or should do at your age. It was written by a sixteen year old boy. When it was released a few years later on, I was sixteen myself. Being sixteen –¬† what a great title for a blog – I had much the same view of men in their mid-sixties as he did. Such men were even older than my Dad, who was already impossibly old at 50. The song featured on perhaps the most successful and innovative record album of the 20th century.

You will have guessed perhaps, if you are paying any attention, that I am now 64, although that is not as old as the author of the song who is way ahead. He went on to become one of the most successful ever songwriters, though this one was a tad sentimental for many tastes.

‘When I get older, losing my hair, many years from now. Will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greetings, bottle of wine?’ Etc*

Yes I too can be found doing the garden, digging the weeds. I can be handy, mending a fuse.

And so it goes…

* extract quoted for educational purposes. Song copyright:  Sony.

Kinky Boots

My sisters and even I were known for our fine legs once upon a time, though mine remained well hidden. Perhaps if I had access to the right footwear, life might have been different. I could have been a contender  (perhaps) for the fine line up of long male legs very much on display at the opening night at the Adelphi, London, of the UK production of the hit Broadway musical, based on a modest British film of 10 years back, based on a true story, set somewhere in Northampton, some time ago.

I am lucky enough to know someone in the crew and to walk their dog occasionally so was blessed with tickets for the opening night – and quite a night it was, with no less a personage than his eminence Christopher Biggins sat two rows in front, and in good form. I hope he stayed for the party afterwards. Also present was a noticeable woman with white hair, who rushed out of the auditorium a few moments into the final number with a gaggle of others. How rude, I thought, and surely too early to be rushing for the last train home to Petts Wood or Dagenham.

Well, I wasn’t clued up enough to recognise Cyndi Lauper, the Tony winning songwriter for the show, until I was on the train home (via Petts Wood). That would explain how she reappeared onstage among the cast in the final curtain call, possibly. I bet she stayed for the party.

Reviews have been strong. My crew-member should have a job for a while longer in in this uncertain business and the dog will be assured of a decent diet even if she doesn’t see that much of her talented mistress.

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