Finding the tick (or the tock)
There was pressure applied, of the psychological variety. A job, that had to be done, by me. And so, faced with an increasing level of timely reminders, I decided to get busy. Found a nail, and a studfinder. Measured and checked the level (pointless, really; only one nail). All to hang a clock, in exactly the right place.
Of course, the clock doesn’t run… a Black Forest cuckoo, with three weights and a pendulum, and figures that gavotte and birds that shout at ungodly moments of the day and night. All silent, on the home front. After some careful reading, it seems that such a mechanical marvel may simply suffer from evaporated lubricant (after more than three decades, why am I not surprised?) However, WD-40 (and duct tape) won’t fix everything. I’m now seeking someone with mad gear skills.
Someone posted a photo of an album cover, from my old band. The one they recorded, the year before I joined them, playing familiar tunes (if you have played in an English military fanfare).
That meant a trip down memory lane, starting with a simple YouTube video, which led to another, and another… eventually I dragged the kid into the game, trying to find a common point. He’d heard of Holst and the Planets.
From there, some of the classical classic rock, from the 70’s; think ELP. On to venues – the Big O in Montreal, which then followed the meander in the stream to other great acts from Quebec, in the 70’s and 80’s, on to people who had careers in spite of themselves. Now I just want to rest…
