Another cool and damp English summer evening. I dine alone with views across the cityscape to the hills beyond. Now the little creek has no burning red sun reflecting upon the still water while it sets on the horizon. Instead the blue/grey clouds drift above, threatening storms. No more hot and sticky days when a shower hardly has an effect. No more restless nights when time plays tricks with the mind, and the body aches for a death-like slumber. Tomorrow may differ. The weather, like the world, is constantly changing, evolving, rolling along in spite of human intervention. Time has no control. Time is the enemy of the old. Close to the anniversary of the death of the King of Rock and Roll, one reflects on a gloriously misspent youth. In fact, during the socially distant isolation a world-wide pandemic now imposes, reflection has become a constant companion. The last century brought two world wars, each with its own horrific consequences. Tormented spirits still audible to those sensitive enough to hear. For those of us fortunate enough to have been conceived and born soon after the wars, a whirlwind of re-build, social revolution, economic growth and carefree fun ensued. We gained the confidence to believe we could truly make a difference. We sang and laughed and marched in protest of the historic errors which we misunderstood. The future for us now contains the pain of ageing and eventual demise. Inevitable, but we have the attitude our generation developed. The future is for the young. Growing into their own world and carrying with them their own confidence and knowledge. I will watch and smile. Listen to my music, and remember…Love and Peace. The hippie dream.
