Wednesday, 1 March 2017

The Ones Who Drifted Away.

I’ve suddenly taken to reminiscing about the lost ladies – those who beckoned with their come hither eyes and invited me to join them on their cloud, only to drift away at the last moment leaving me to plummet unceremoniously and unsatisfied back to earth. Besotted then, I’m merely sotted now, which is my excuse for making this my first post of the new month.

There was Angie and Janet
And Sarah and Sue
And Hélène and Zoe
And a few others too

I’m not bitter. I don’t do bitterness. A toast to you ladies, wherever you are (and however old you look now.) And I suppose I should confess that Hélène was not strictly one of them. She was just a brief and unrequited encounter, but it’s good to have a bit of Gallic chic in a ditty, isn’t it? It is.

Hearing a Sinead Lohan album and an old Beatles track brought me here (as they say on YouTube.) Forget the Beatles, though. They never wrote lyrics half as good as Ms Lohan. I was besotted with her, too, back in the 90s, but nobody seems to know where she is or what she’s doing nowadays. Sailing by, I expect.

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