Wanderlust - Travelling Eternity Road

Like everyone else I’ve been at home for months with little prospect of going anywhere. Luckily, I don’t mind. I’m happy and safe at home, or at my place of work for a couple of days a week. Over time, I’ve become so contented at home that I dread going out to anywhere busy. Social media showed pictures of Blackpool taken this Bank Holiday weekend of the crowded promenade, not a face-mask in sight. I don’t see the resort as getting back on its feet after lockdown, I just see fear, but that’s my problem to overcome. In a few weeks I will be travelling over the border into my beloved Dumfries & Galloway and our home from home – pandemic permitting. I’ll be fine, doing my own thing, keeping to my own space and allowing my wanderlust to take me into Galloway Forest and the quiet, hidden beaches along the Solway Firth. I will have plenty of face-masks.

My photo: somewhere on the west coast of South Uist

I wish we had a motor home or a camper van. In my wanderlust dreams I pack it with everything we need and set off, northbound, stopping wherever the fancy takes us, then destination, the Outer Hebrides. It is another world. We could stay as long as we like and be more relaxed about it. Up to now, our trips have been governed by annual leave and it isn’t long enough, even with a bank holiday tagged on the end. Things will change soon. Time will be our own and we’ll be able to just go for it – pandemic, lockdown and personal worries aside.

Back in the good old days when The Moody Blues did a UK tour, we’d be with them, going to places we otherwise wouldn’t go. I suppose that was a form of wanderlust, even though we booked everything in advance and knew exactly where we were going and for how long. We were ‘Travelling Eternity Road’ if you like, including Manchester Apollo, or now I think it is called O2, we would drive home from there; London would be part of a sight-seeing holiday, Birmingham, got to be in their home city, often where the last concert would be, and anywhere else we could factor in. Lots of concerts over many years. It was always worth it.

If I felt ready to mingle with the rest of society, I would have travelled to Wembley, supporting Blackpool F.C. in their successful play-off final against Lincoln City. Instead, I watched on TV at home. Feeling stressed and holding my breath for the most of ninety-odd minutes isn’t healthy. In my house there were shrieks, screams, tears and much applause. The neighbours knew we were home.

I found this, by Alfred Joyce Kilmer:

Roofs
(For Amelia Josephine Burr)

The road is wide and the stars are out
and the breath of the night is sweet,
And this is the time when wanderlust should seize upon my feet.
But I'm glad to turn from the open road and the starlight on my face,
And to leave the splendour of out-of-doors for a human dwelling place.

I never have seen a vagabond who really liked to roam
All up and down the streets of the world and not to have a home:
The tramp who slept in your barn last night and left at break of day
Will wander only until he finds another place to stay.

A gypsy-man will sleep in his cart with canvas overhead;
Or else he'll go into his tent when it is time for bed.
He'll sit on the grass and take his ease so long as the sun is high,
But when it is dark he wants a roof to keep away the sky.

If you call a gypsy a vagabond, I think you do him wrong,
For he never goes a-travelling but he takes his home along.
And the only reason a road is good, as every wanderer knows,
Is just because of the homes, the homes, the homes to which it goes.

They say that life is a highway and its milestones are the years,
And now and then there's a toll-gate where you buy your way with tears.
It's a rough road and a steep road and it stretches broad and far,
But at last it leads to a golden Town where golden Houses are.

                                                                     Alfred Joyce Kilmer (1886 - 1918)

Thanks for reading, take care if you're out there, Pam x

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Blues - Don't Stop the Music

 

 

 

 

In my life, music soothes everything.  There’s a song for every occasion. Putting all the Christmas stuff away includes taking The Moody Blues ‘December’ album off the CD player. I will miss singing along to their version of In the Bleak Mid-Winter.  I got strange looks in church some years ago when it sounded like I’d made up my own descant.

Back to work, reasonably accepting that this is ‘my lot’ for a while longer, and hopefully just a little while.  I will do the best I can as we all do. We smile, we’re helpful, we care and not everyone appreciates us, but that’s life.  The other day was enough for me to remark that the season of goodwill was well and truly over and the chill of the waiting room was a result of the frostiness of the occupants. I’m speaking my mind, after all, being quiet hasn’t got me anywhere.

For those still carrying the winter blues, take a chill pill, put some music on and turn the volume up.

I’ve been listening to Tom Walker’s ‘What A Time To Be Alive’, a welcome Christmas gift. He’s more ‘indie pop/folk’ than ‘blues’, and younger than most musicians I listen to. My introduction to him was when he supported my favourite Moody Blues member, John Lodge on a solo tour a few years ago. You can be forgiven for thinking that I don’t move far from my favourite band, though my record and CD collection is eclectic.

It would seem that The Moody Blues have stopped touring as a band. No official announcement and so far, no farewell concerts, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve been fortunate to travel all over the country to many concerts on umpteen UK tours and have lots of good memories, some which have been shared on here from time to time. It is decades since I watched and listened in awe to a schoolboy rock band practising ‘Nights In White Satin’ at youth club, or sang along to ‘Question’ on the juke box in our empty pub. It has been an eventful journey of wonderful music. Long may it continue with the soloists.

Aside from the Moody Blues, I like the Rolling Stones ‘Let It Bleed’ album for its great bluesy tracks. And just for the record, Tommy Steele’s ‘Singing the Blues’ is the best cover.

With a blog theme of ‘Blues’, how could I resist the Moodies? And if you know me, you’ll understand and possibly yawn. Sorry.

I wrote this poem after a night at the London O2. We were moved from ground floor seating to higher up, which I didn’t want but it turned out to be a good experience in watching the arena fill up and observing other fans having a great night.

 

 

The Concert.

 

The lights are lowered, silence fills the arena

As the minstrels move through darkness on to the stage.

This is the moment, breathless anticipation,

Travelling eternity road has been an age.

 

Then a flute’s haunting melody rises above

Twin guitar riffs to take lead of the symphony.

Slow, bass drum, and applause reaches a crescendo,

Orchestral rock and voices singing harmony.

 

On the threshold of ecstasy, keeping the faith,

We’ve made this pilgrimage so many times before,

To be rewarded with autographs and handshakes

After waiting patiently outside the stage door.

 

PMW

 

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