I had a little bird, Its name was Enza. I opened the window, And in-flu-enza. So went a children’s skip rope ditty of 1918-1919, when Spanish Flu swept around the world and knocked off more people than the so-called Great War. Isn’t that so like children; to make light of something so awful they can’t comprehend it. My free range imagination set off on this journey when confined to bed with something approaching flu, but…
There’s a tradition in the folk music scene at folk festivals and in selected pubs where singers and musicians gather and play, surrounded by those who sit on the fringes, tapping their toes in time to the music. The folk session (photo by Steve Swayne) is wedded to repetitive tunes, played by whoever turns up with whatever instrument they have, and interspersed with songs which tell of the plight of the urban proletariat. The former…
By Laurel Wilson Vale Tommy the Narc. We lost one of the good old folkies the other week and his wake was on last Saturday, attended by several dozen folkies who remembered him fondly from the 1970’s. The wake encompassed many of the elements dear to the hearts of folkies – fond tales involving the departed, an ample supply of cider, beer etc., laughter, music, camping overnight. I recall meeting him in days gone past…
You may have noticed last week how I skilfully bypassed National Seniors’ Week and wrote about the IT/social media stuff that engrosses 30-somethings. Physiotherapists love this ‘old body-teen brain’ syndrome. They get a lot of ongoing business from 70-year-old men falling off ladders while pruning trees with chainsaws, or moving a full filing cabinet only to have all four drawers roll out at the same time. But I digress. For me, the young at heart…