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 A tentative blog to test the temperature. |
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Ten years ago I was writing several blogs on various subjects - F1 motor racing, Music, Classic Cars, Great Romances and, most crushingly, a personal journal that included my thoughts on America, memories of England and Africa, opinion, humour, writing and anything else that occurred. It all became too much (I was attempting to update the journal every day) and I collapsed, exhausted and thoroughly disillusioned in the end. So this blog is indeed a Toe in the Water, a place to document my thoughts in and on WdC but with a determination not to get sucked into the blog whirlpool ever again. Here's hoping.     |
| A Tale of Long Ago Magic’s song, Rude, is a pleasant little ditty with a narrative. This is the first time I’ve heard it and I must confess that it made me think of my late elder sister. So here’s her story. When she was in her late teens (I was in my slightly earlier teens), she fell in with an older guy and became quite serious about him. As far as I was concerned, the only reasonable thing about him was that he had a motorbike. A very fast bike, being a racer fixed up to be road legal. And he let me ride it occasionally. Man, that was a fantastic bike and I scared myself at least a couple of times on it. The real point was that it put me on the guy’s side, of course. Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all. But it did nothing for my father’s view on him. The bike was probably the start of it but their relationship worsened through various events until, eventually, the old man declared that my sister was to have nothing further to do with him. Bad move on my father’s part. It wasn’t long before the young lady declared that she was moving out of the house. Worse than that, she was moving to another town in another country. Having just turned eighteen, she could override my father’s objections and off she went. It wasn’t long before we heard that the relevant boyfriend had also moved to that town. A few years later they returned, my father realised that his tactics had been entirely wrong, and grudgingly he accepted the relationship. They married soon after. So the story tells us a little about humans and their foibles. Make something forbidden and they are bound to desire it even more. Unfortunately, it doesn’t end there. It turned out that the guy was a money-making machine - in a few years he was a millionaire and the couple had produced two large and bike-racing nephews for me. And then the happy couple got divorced. He cared more for making money than for my sister, apparently. She found another guy (much poorer but a thoroughly decent feller) and they lived happily in obscurity. And what I got out of it was that everything was caused by that wonderful bike (Ducati 175). Had its owner not had it, my father would never have objected to him, my sister would have soon forgotten him and moved on to others, and everyone would have had a less dramatic life. Except my nephews, of course. But you can’t have everything. Word count: 431 |
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