There’s another reminiscence in my head all ready to transfer to my fingers, but Nostalgiopolis is not my city of residence and you can always skip the boring present-day stuff and pop back in a day or two. Or later on today indeed, depends how hard I relax this afternoon (the morning went well).
I’m chuckling just now, in fact. Last night I took part in Day One of Mike’s “Part Four of our collaborative annual quest to establish the Greatest Decade For Pop Music Ever” as he eloquently puts it – and only now has it occurred to me that he might possibly check out the people who have voted and if he does so he just might – but he’s a busy man, surely he has better things to do? – look at my profile and see my appreciative mention of the Singing Postman.
If the man does not instantly delete my comments then he is a true, come-what-may, democrat and I salute him (he hasn’t deleted them in fact and he quotes one of the most opinionated, which I wasn’t quite expecting).
I hadn’t knowingly heard any of the songs before; I listened three times and then cast my vote, with reasons. Well, I might not have taken much notice of ‘the charts’ for the last few decades, but arguably that just makes me more open-minded and disinterested. I gave up on them in the early 70s with the advent of music designed to appeal to children. Or ‘teenyboppers’ as the newly coined term put it (when even that wasn’t childish enough they called them ‘weenyboppers’). I’ve dipped in and out since, but hardly enough to sully the perfect plummy bloom of ignorance.