“I need to laugh and when the sun is out
I’ve got something I can laugh about”
My last post on here was no laughing matter. ‘Shadow Days’ was written at the beginning of what turned out to be the best part of a week of fairly deep depression. A depression that has now lifted and that I was much helped out of by the many comments and good wishes from readers of this blog. So thank you all so much. And to several very close friends too.
So after doing some things I needed to do to deal with the depression I decided I’d take this Friday completely off work. Early on Twitter was telling me it’s 50 years today since ‘Revolver’ came out. So I decided to go into town and celebrate this by getting a copy.
Feeling a lightnesss in my step and my heart that’s been missing lately.
When I got a record player and started buying LPs again three years ago I told myself I wouldn’t buy any Beatles albums this time round. Reasoning that all the songs are hard-wired into me anyway. Then a few weeks ago, on impulse, I bought Abbey Road and was transported by joy when I played it. Transported back to 15 year old me when my friend Paul turned up at our house, smiling ‘I’ve got it!’ Then both sat there listening to it that first time on Paul’s reel to reel, spellbound by the wonder of the thing, from ‘Come Together’ to ‘The End’ and knowingly happy at the time to be alive as Beatles LPs were actually coming out. Still one of the privileges of my life that.
Well I bought ‘Revolver’ when it came out too, 50 years ago today, for 27/6d.
Then my phone goes and while I’m sat at the side of the street talking to my friend I get covered in the multi-coloured bubbles that two people are blowing.
I’ve been a Probe customer since it started up in Clarence Street in, oh, 1971? But I’m not a customer today, they’ve sold out of ‘Revolver.’ I tell them it’s 50 years today since it came out.”Oh well that’ll be why then.”
So I get one from HMV, the third copy I’ve owned in my life. The 1966 original being with me until the mid 1990s when all my vinyl was replaced by CDs. Which then, in their turn and never having been much liked, were all sold off for charitable purposes – many by my friend Sarah Jones a few years ago.
We talk depression and music – Beach Boys, Beatles and Kraftwerk – and what gets us through. Sarah being one of the several good friends I can rely on.
And I’m happy again. Happy to have this day in a mostly happy life. Happy to have my friends around me and our Coming Home to look forward to.
I am always finding my way.
“So play the game ‘Existence’ to the end
Of the beginning, of the beginning”