This has to be one of my favourite Beatles songs. I have a very special memory of seeing them perform this on Top of the Pops when I visited the UK with my folks in December 1968. I was 11 years old and absolutely obsessed with the Beatles. They came on stage and the audience went crazy and just wouldn’t let them end the song, it went on and on, for ages. I was in heaven. I recorded their performance on a reel to reel recorder that I had in those days and that recording was one of my most prized possessions. This YouTube version takes me right back.
Homage to the Beatles in my childhood bedroom.
This post, by the way, is for my friend Judy who is totally supportive of everything I do, as only a friend can be. She saw my picture of the roses in the mist and commented on how much she liked it and said she could just imagine the rest of the scene. When I told her I had also taken a photo of the rose and the archway she asked me to post it, for her. So here it is Judes, the rest of the picture!
She also asked me to post a picture of my Western Flyer, which has come home to rest! I lent it to Judy about 25 years ago and I can remember her cycling after work from her place in Berea Road to my house in Shuter Road, just off Davenport Road. We used to put on a Delia Sainsbury exercise record, put Kiera in a playpen and prance around the lounge like the demented women that we were! Afterwards we would crack open a nice, cold beer and wallow in the swimming pool.
Judy has been experiencing a very unpleasant buzzing in her head recently which I reckon might have something to do with having worked with Peter for so long (I too get a slight buzzing in my ears when he is around). Fortunately, according to the doctor, for her it is a temporary condition. However Judy, if you start to hear voices please speak to me because I once wrote a thesis on the subject back in the day (psych 3 actually). As I recall, according to the Swazi, amongst whom I conducted my research (on one of my many jaunts in to Swaziland with Peter) it is quite normal and, in fact, desirable because it means that you are communicating with the ancestors. My first interview, I have to admit, did not get off to a good start. I asked an elderly woman (come to think of it, she was probably the age I am now) if she ever heard voices. “Yes”, she answered, looking at me as if I was a bit doff, “Everyone hears voices, I’m hearing yours right now”. As it so happens, I did not pursue a career in psychology but that doesn’t stop me from claiming some sort of expertise in the field. Although my family tends to regard my analyses as psychobabble, I never let them forget that I’m a psych major, class of ’77.
I am going to be taking a short break from blogging as my darling son has just returned to Durban for his summer holidays and is not keen to come to the farm. So, if the mountain won’t come to Mohammed then Mohammed must go to the mountain. I am packing up here for awhile and taking Edna and the dogs down to Durbs. And then, in early December a friend of Judy and mine, Nicky, is visiting us from London and I know we’re going to be doing a lot of meandering. We’re also going to be visiting Nambithi Game Reserve, which I am so looking forward to.
So here are a few more pics in the meantime! I will be back at my computer in a month’s time.