Monday, 2 September 2013

A Misspent Youth.

I don’t know what made me think of this, but here goes.

When I was a teenager, my friends and I did wholesome things. We had rock ’n roll, agreed, but we didn’t do the sex and drugs thing (not unless you count alcohol and tobacco, which we didn’t because they were just things the grown ups used routinely.)

Instead, during the dark part of the year, we would trek over to a patch of open moorland close to where we lived and build a fire. And when the fire had been burning for some time and there were red embers around the edge, we would place potatoes and chestnuts in just the right place to roast, then have a roast potato and chestnut supper.

We would talk, of course, mostly about the future, and sometimes I would take my guitar and sing some Bob Dylan songs. Everyone applauded when I’d finished. On one occasion I read a ghost story by the light of the fire, and everybody said ‘Wooo, that was good!’

Every Christmas we went carol singing, choosing a different neighbourhood every night for a week. We’d knock on the door and ask permission to sing a carol, explaining that we were from Willfield Junior High School and were collecting for charity. People believed us almost without exception. Only one person ever rang the school the next day to check whether we were genuine.

We sang the carols properly – all the verses, and a different one for each house on a rotation basis. I sang the base lines because I knew them from playing trombone in the school orchestra. And people were remarkably generous; we collected a hell of a lot of money and gave it all to the school for the charity collection. We never kept a penny for ourselves, even though we could easily have done so and nobody would have been any the wiser.

And so I can quote from the Monty Python ‘Old Men’ sketch without fear of invoking the same irony:

‘Tell that to the kids today, and they won’t bloody believe you!’

*  *  *

I just remembered what made me think of it. I read an old blog post in which I created a scenario involving Zoe, an open fire, Mr Tambourine Man, and two glasses of sherry. It was kinda cute, and somebody from Serbia just read it.

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