Singapoorer

Prolonged residence here has made the heart grow fonder - much I take already too often for granted: the warmth, sun, bits of green, many people, great food and the opportunities I've been kindly given - but the TV, media and general ringfencing of certain aspects of life, contrasted with the seediness and exploitation of vulnerable people whether maids, construction workers, sex workers not to mention hanging on the statute books - often get me down & wonder how its affecting me in the long term - will I end up like the expats of Holland Village - that I (probably unjustly) loathe?

I guess not: I don't earn enough -rarely leave my particular spot far from the centre....

Recently I was back in the uk - a very brief visit, but I was very glad to get back here - wonder if thats a good or a bad thing.

Adios Muchachos!

I was very chuffed to have Al fans respond positively to my discovery of Al's probably teaching ukelele in his rooms at the Raffles Hotel, c. 1926...

Why am I so strung up on an old crooner who sounds on first listen like a ghostly old man - when I find fellow crooner Crosby almost unlistenable - it can't just be my hearing Richard Thompson's Al Bowlly's in Heaven - I must ponder this further....something to do with Al's tone - influenced by his rich roots and experiences whole world over, and some kind of nostalgia maybe for England 20s-30s - for all its faults and hangups - exciting that some American enthusiast is attempting to release all tracks which must run into the 1000s & that must be another elelment - a collectability about Al - I used to enjoy tracking down the available & not so available cds from such a variety of sources - results of which as ever I have still really to digest - delayed effects of some kind of retail therapy. And now part of my own history - a girlfriend years back as well as those in my life now singing lines of Bowlly songs or at least the songs Al sang - misery farm "if you want to know the moral to this song/ 50 million little monkeys can't be wrong."

Beatles, Bones and Rolling Stones

While I didn't always see eye to eye with my Dad...I greatly admired him, what he did, how hard he worked, his razor sharp often cruel university of life tongue/ wit - & his small but excellent record collection - if not for him would I have ever discovered the Stones' Aftermath which I seem to have known backwards by the age of 5 dues to my mother's incessant playing of it on an old grey portable record player - my singing tunelessly "what a drag it is getting old" probably didn't go down too well in a village terrace of septagenarians. Flight 505, Under my thumb, Goin Home fabulous but hardly run of the mill stones from when Brian probably still fornicated more than he did drugs & Keith had yet to develop his frankenstein forehead.

Dad was always ribbing me for singing some earworm, but he was always doing the same & maybe his & his fathers vigorous renditions of "elelven months and ten more days explain my near obsessive bowlly collection.

Also Barry Maguire, early Cat Stevens, Reg Presley, the Kinks especially - no Beatles thankfully - but I've yet to capitalise on his crooning P J Proby....should check him out soon.

Here goes...

Typically for me I've jumped on a bandwagon tardily and am now too tired to write anything sensible here today. But now its here hopefully I'll put this spot to good use, venting, pronouncing, etc....once I'm over this jetlag I'll begin in earnest.

Signing off to Al Bowlly's 'I'm glad I waited'

Orlando

ps Wonder how the new maid shaped up today - my heart goes out to her....