My Blogger friend Mitch has clarified my confusion about the use of Boxer in my previous post on The Guru. I had omitted a major part of the lyrics which I now give below and now it all makes sense though I doubt very much that for MLB, assuming that he identifies himself to the singer’s profile, I could have been the boxer. I however can understand that he may well have thought of me as fitting that description in my youth.
Then I’m laying out my winter clothes Wishing I was gone Going home Where the New York City winters aren’t bleeding me Leading me To going home In the clearing stands a boxer And a fighter by his trade And he carries the reminders Of every glove that laid him down And cut him till he cried out In his anger and his shame “I am leaving, I am leaving” But the fighter still remains, he’s still remains Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie Lie la lie, lie la lie la lie la lie, la la lie la lie
My friend SG had this to say on his Facebook post: “This is probably a sure sign that I am getting old, but I absolutely love “Gone Fishing” with Bob Mortimer and Paul Whitehouse. Stunning locations, gentle banter and great fishing – what’s not to like?”
That took me back to the early nineties of the last century and Chris Rea.
I posted this in response to SG and we then exchanged the following messages.
SG: Please watch the programme if you can. It is on BBC 2 here, I think. It is hosted by two aging comedians in their early 60s who are recovering from life threatening health conditions, so a lot of meditations on life and mortality (all presented in a light-hearted way).
I: I have seen a few clips on youtube recommended by some friends. Quite interesting but, not my cup of tea. I am not as old as you are.
(There is over two decades of age difference between us.)
For those interested, the lyrics for Chris Rea’s song:
I’m going fishing I got me a line Nothin’ I do’s gonna’ make the difference So I’m taking the time And you ain’t never gonna’ be happy Anyhow, anyway So I’m going fishing And I’m going today I’m going fishing Sounds crasy I know I know nothing about fishing But just watch me go And when my time has come I will look back and see Peace on the shoreline That could have been me You can waste whole lifetime Trying to be What you think is expected of you But you’ll never be free May as well go fishing.
Chris Rea interview – summer 1991, for the song ”Gone Fishing”.
“I know a lot of people have remarked to me they have listened to the record, “I like that song, that’s what we should do, just go fishing, forget about everything”. The funny thing about that song is as I say in the song, I don’t know anything about fishing. he bottom line of the tune is that when you get to the last day of your life and you look back, and you see how many hours you’ve spent in traffic-jams, pushing and shoving, how many hours you’ve spent elbowing people out of the way and being elbowed out of the way; You just thing to yourself I wish I had all them hours back, cos I may as well have gone fishing…”
My old faithful table top FM radio which I use to listen to while reading my newspapers and solving crossword puzzles gave up its ghost this morning. It has been a very reliable companion for the last six years.
After having investigated online for substitutes, I just asked a dear friend ST, where I could get a reliable replacement and he promptly sent me the name and phone number of a friend of his, PK , who trades in radios and other electronic items. On discussing my requirement, PK offered to get it delivered to me at home later in the day and I agreed. This set was delivered to me just half an hour ago. Naturally, I am delighted.
The story however does not end there.
On being asked for the cost including delivery charges, PK informed me that it was a gift from ST.
I am blessed to have such friends in my life. I hope that all my readers also are.
As my readers know well, I am fascinated by synchronicity in my life. When it happens, I am not only zapped but, also full of wonder at the occurrence.
I am fascinated by Maratha history and this morning I went online to check on some matters relating to Malhar Rao Holkar, one of our great historical heroes. I did this to follow up on something that I saw last evening on a TV serial on his daughter in law Ahilyabai Holkar.
I was interrupted by a call from a friend who like me is a pluophile and lover of Hindustani Classical Music, asking me to read a WhatsApp message that he had sent me.
The message gave me a link to a Youtube clip of Ustad Rashid Khan singing Raag Malhar. Both the singer and the raag are favourites of mine the latter particularly in the monsoons.
So many things leading me to an amazing experience of great weather and fantastic music.
“From pure sensation to the intuition of beauty, from pleasure and pain to love and the mystical ecstasy and death — all the things that are fundamental, all the things that, to the human spirit, are most profoundly significant, can only be experienced, not expressed. The rest is always and everywhere silence.
After silence that which comes nearest to expressing the inexpressible is music.”
As it happens so often in my life, I received a link to this remarkable song with such beautiful lyrics after I had written my previous blog post. This is so relevant today that I feel that I must share this with my readers. My sincere gratitude to RP who sent the link to remind me of this song.
The Living Years Mike + The Mechanics
Every generation Blames the one before And all of their frustrations Come beating on your door I know that I’m a prisoner To all my Father held so dear I know that I’m a hostage To all his hopes and fears I just wish I could have told him in the living years Oh, crumpled bits of paper Filled with imperfect thought Stilted conversations I’m afraid that’s all we’ve got You say you just don’t see it He says it’s perfect sense You just can’t get agreement In this present tense We all talk a different language Talking in defence Say it loud (say it loud), say it clear (oh say it clear) You can listen as well as you hear It’s too late (it’s too late) when we die (oh when we die) To admit we don’t see eye to eye So we open up a quarrel Between the present and the past We only sacrifice the future It’s the bitterness that lasts So don’t yield to the fortunes You sometimes see as fate It may have a new perspective On a different day And if you don’t give up, and don’t give in You may just be okay So say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear) You can listen as well as you hear Because it’s too late, it’s too late (it’s too late) when we die (oh when we die) To admit we don’t see eye to eye I wasn’t there that morning When my Father passed away I didn’t get to tell him All the things I had to say I think I caught his spirit Later that same year I’m sure I heard his echo In my baby’s new born tears I just wish I could have told him in the living years Say it loud, say it clear (oh say it clear) You can listen as well as you hear It’s too late (it’s too late) when we die (it’s too late when we die) To admit we don’t see eye to eye So say it, say it, say it loud (say it loud) Say it clear (come on say it clear)
