Of course, the “Best Photographer” award for 2020 COULD go to someone for their work that had to wait 40 years to be seen – Mr Ronald Gurr…and the offering below….
But I jest…at least on offering up the award – but the photo is still just absolutely fabulous!
In response to his post today (his “Best of 2020”), here is…part my response to his choices, and part a broader explanation of mine.
And here is my response to him of my choices that I left in the comments of his post. (With replies to him kept in.)
Best Album : In Memory Of My Feelings – Catherine Anne Davies and Bernard Butler Best Single : Fools Tomorrow – Warm Digits (with a VERY close runner up being Bitter Tang by Michael Rother) Best Cover Version : Absolute Beginners – Steve Harley Most listened to song : New Gold Dream 12” German Mix (HONESTLY! Played usually 3 times over most mornings for the past several months)
Best Book : I haven’t read any new books other than…the obvious – but I really, REALLY want to read Shuggie Bain by Douglas Stuart Best Photographer : Chris Leslie/Disappearing Glasgow – DITTO! Best Podcast : The MainMan podcast (Mr Francis Gallagher’s a very close second!)
Best Film : Haven’t seen a film all year – apart from one documentary (see Best Docu) Best Series : Not watched a series, either (how does a man who doesn’t like telly watch a TV series? *confused face*) Best Documentary : Rockfield: The Studio on the Farm Best Gig : Oh, Jim! Don’t do this to me!!! Let me pre-empt it by saying Copenhagen was BRAW! And…you know…I’m a very lucky girl for seeing both shows, I know! But I saw Bryan Ferry the week before! And…well, that was amazing too! But…for, venue, setting…uniqueness of the experience, band performance – it has to be Field Music at Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum (sorry, Jim! It was REALLY close though)
Best Journey: COPENHAGEN! Best Decision : To go to Copenhagen – ALMOST decided against it. Best Meal : Cafe Andaluz, Edinburgh Best Drink : IRN BRU (I’ve got the taste for it now)
Worst Moment : How long you got? Biggest Disappointment : The halting of the 40 Years+ Tour WITHOUT A DOUBT! Person I’d Most Like To Have A Drink With : My brother, David. (He’d drink me under the table and I’d love every second of it!) Person I’d Least Like To Have a Drink With : The EX president.
Biggest Thrill: Seeing Loch Lomond with my own eyes.
That’s it…on the spot, without much time to think.
Even just the way the interview started. Even BEFORE hearing the start of the interview, I knew it would be awesome. But…just the start. The ringing phone, and as soon as the phone is answered Frank saying “give me a one-two” and Jim saying…well, I won’t spoil it.
But it had be grinning like a loon from the get go. And the smile didn’t leave my face for the following 50 odd minutes.
A lot of the stuff Jim has said before, of course. And when you listen to EVERY interview he does, you’ll hear the same things over and over. But it never gets old. He never seems to tire telling them. There is always the same level of enthusiasm in his voice and in his relaying of the stories and the telling of the tales.
And…I fall in love with him AGAIN. Over and over. It all goes round and round.
I guess the thing that sunk in this time, even though he has said it before is that…he’s right. To have done what he has done. To have that relentless drive to make a success of it. To push on. To not be defeatist. To use the knock backs and set backs, and the things that would put other mere mortals on their knees – it takes “a type”. You need to be “a type”. Luck…and to be “a type”.
I think it is singularly the thing that makes me love him most of all, is that he IS that “type”.
You know…yes! I do fancy the pants off him for the aesthetic, esp. of the younger man – I won’t lie. That’s where the lust and sexual attraction is – but that’s the thing too. The thing that makes him sexy AF probably actually ISN’T his looks, per se, it’s everything. The whole sum of his parts. That drive. That ambition. The absolutely stone-faced, dogged, utter infallibility of him!
There’s a bit in it in which he said to Frank that he remembered a time that Frank gave him “a serve” as we’d say in Oz. A kind of “dressing down”. I won’t go into a lot of detail because I don’t want to spoil the enjoyment of you guys listening to it. But the end of it was Frank saying to Jim, “What are you gonna do about it? Go home and cry to your mummy?”
You know. I would have. I did. I would do. I was weak. I have always been weak. And my weakness shows in a life barely lived.
But he took it as fuel. He took it as fuel to push on. To just…stick at it and make the most of a shit situation. To not let it get the better of him. Defeat him. He’d knuckle down. He’d get the thing licked.
And I guess this is why I attach myself so much to Jim. Because he just…he makes me feel alive. He gives me oxygen!
He’s just a million beautiful, positive things. Passion, drive, energy, talent, brains, beauty. I love him to pieces. I just do. Retrospectively, from point dot. From that young upstart dreaming the dreams of getting the band together until the present, Mr “Elder Statesmen” who you can hear when he talks still has that buzz of that 16 year old kid.
It’s why I wish more than anything to be his friend. I just want to be around him. I just want to bask in his light. He’s like the sun.
But…he’s a winner. And as a winner, he likes to surround himself with fellow winners. Hence, he would want absolutely NOWT to do with me! Loz from Loserville.
I could listen to him talk all day, every day. I could happily bask in his light all day too. Just to feel some of that sun.
I wrote this years ago, about him. It hasn’t changed. I still feel exactly the same.
I was buzzing for ages afterwards, mulling over it all in my head. Smiling, trying to drift off to sleep, hoping I’d dream of him. Dream of sitting around talking to him. Or perhaps walking and talking with him? My friend Stephen has planted this whole being “taken up The Trossachs” idea in my head…as the ultimate dream. As if! As if he would.
I tried to settle and get to sleep and thought, “Geez, I wish I was Frank!”
You can find the details of Frank Gallagher’s Soundman Confidential podcast in my previous posts.
I don’t ever remember feeling this way before – or at least not for a very long time. A discussion of friends in his latest post and … it just has me wishing again. To be one. DEEMED one. (A friend.) You know…the more you want something. Lol
There are always these questions that start. “The people he feels closest to – Charlie, his ‘girlfriend’ (partner, missus, Other Half…whatever he seems most comfortable with acknowledging her as) – they have piqued his interest and kept him around for the longest time – HOW DO THEY DO IT?! WHAT’S THE SECRET? Honestly. I keep asking this. It’s a question I never dared air in public before today but I wonder…eternally! Is it really because neither of them are … “needy”? But then…doesn’t that make HIM the “needy” one?
I read an article once in which he said that he sends Charlie several emails a day and Charlie never replies. Lol – perhaps another one of Jim’s “embellishments”? Who knows?
The next thing I do is to wonder what happened. With me, personally. Did I bore him? Did I piss him off somewhere along the line? And when? What was it? I still keep account of it as some….affirmation that…it’s okay. He still likes me, I haven’t bored him. He’s not pissed off, etc, etc. April and “Jalopy”. Nothing since then. The odd ‘like’ to a comment. But even those don’t seem to be happening now.
I’ve even given up on posting to the FB visitor wall. There’d be interaction that would go on there too, for a time. But that soon died also. It’s how it all began, really. Hunter And The Hunted was posted there.
You know, the thing is…maybe *I’d* get bored. Lol. If there was somehow some interaction or correspondence with him on a regular basis. I might get bored. Lol. AS IF! I mean…THIS IS THE WHOLE POINT. I felt I had…SOMETHING. That we “talked” in a manner of speaking.
I loved those interactions SO MUCH. Just us having the odd Bowie talk or there’d be something about a SM song or some other piece of music. And it would be talked about between us. All public. I didn’t care! Just to feel like we were talking. It was wonderful.
And then I absolutely fell to pieces in July, 2018 – that whole “real fans” bollocks. I thought it was beyond repair. That he just HATED me and I was gutted. At least that was quick severance. Cut off the limb! Try to stem the flow of blood quickly and in time it’ll repair and heal.
But then it seemed okay. I was allowed back on SMO (as it was then) and then I had my meet and greet – and he joked with me! Well, I kept hoping it was a joke. In reality *I am the joke*.
I really wish I could pretend I don’t care. Or actually DIDN’T care! But if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be writing this kind of shit out, would I?
The last time I remember feeling this way is…when I was around 16. I was keen on this guy and I just wanted him so bad. His sister lived across the road. (She was 7 or 8 years older than him so she was living with her boyfriend who was our neighbour so…B, we shall call him, lived several streets away. Still what was deemed to be in the same suburb – Busby). I asked my neighbour for the phone number to her old house so I could ring B. I was such a chicken. I only called once or twice. I never knew what to say. What was I going to say? “Hey, want to hang out?” Lol. It’s kind of what happened – when I felt brave enough to try. Of course he wasn’t interested! Lol. If he had been, I would have been swatting him off with a cricket bat. Lol
Two years down the track, I was still hankering for him. His brother was getting married. Mum and me were minding the neighbour’s young ones while she went to her brother’s wedding. B came back to her house early. He came over to our house to see how his nephews and nieces were. A ruse, I’m sure, looking back. Anyway…he was dressed nicely. He’d just come back from a wedding after all and to me nothing had changed in two years. He looked gorgeous. He smelled amazing. I was a goner.
Sadly, I thought it would mean we’d “hang out” now. I’d call him to see if he’d want to “hang out”. They just ended up “booty” calls in the end. To me it didn’t matter. It was SOMETHING. Anything to just…have a bit of time with him. It could have gone on for ssooo long. It went on far longer than it should have. Thankfully, after several months, I met Roger who saved me from this sad, pathetic thing I had with B. A genuine boyfriend who wanted to be with me properly. At least for a while anyway.
I’m not comparing Jim to B, per se. It’s a very different thing. I wanted to bone B (not that I am saying that I don’t want that with Jim. Lol. But I am a realist!). It’s all those emotions and feelings you confuse yourself with as a teen: love, lust, friendship, admiration, desire, infatuation. They all blur and blend and you hardly know what’s what. I really was naive enough to think once I had sex with B that I’d be his girlfriend and we’d be together. Silly girl! I had no one to really talk to about it. No friends of my own age. I couldn’t talk about it with mum. My one close friend at that point was B’s sister. I couldn’t talk to her! Although she was aware enough how keen on him I was. I couldn’t talk to my sister. She had just gotten married herself and was preoccupied with that. I didn’t feel as though I could talk to her about those kind of things.
God, it’s all such a lifetime ago. And it’s all still fresh in my mind like it was just a short time ago. I’m nearly 50, FFS! And I’m talking about stuff that happened to me at 18 like it was fucking yesterday! It’s ridiculous how much B comes to my thoughts. His sister was at mum’s funeral last year.
Jim made it all feel safe. Like…here is this man I absolutely fancy the pants off – but he’s my friend, and that’s enough. I love him and I’ll never have him. But he’s my friend and it’s enough.
But it’s gone. It just feels like it’s gone. I guess I never had it. Or I just kidded myself that I did. Allowed myself to believe it.
And I keep wondering what went wrong. What happened in March and then after April and “jalopy”.
So…to stop it hurting I say to myself “just think of him in 1982. Just throw all the stuff into that. All that desire and hankering. All the wishing and praying. All the lust. Throw it all there.”
And like Alice…I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole once more. I talk too much. And share too much. Cry too much. FUCKING MENOPAUSE! I’m trying to accept it is happening but…I am still that 18 year old girl. When the fuck did I arrive at 50?! A lifetime has gone but I don’t feel as if I’ve lived it.
In the meantime…I’ve kind of worked on “art”. Will probably become a new blog banner in a day or two.
As a friend of mine says, if you don’t ask, you don’t get. Lol.
Well, I’ve asked.
Will probably be yet ANOTHER deleted post! I am just trying to have a bit of fun, people! I know I’m dreaming. It’s just some lighthearted fun. Nothing would make my life more than having Jim round for dinner, but he’s NEVER gonna visit this part of Glasgow to dine with me.
After not a super long but very solid night’s sleep, I awoke to see…although an overcast sky, high clouds and dry conditions. It seemed promising. I looked at the forecast which seemed to say although it was dry now (around 8am), it wasn’t going to last and it would be a dodge of sunshine and showers for most of the day.
I had to check out of the hostel by 10am, so after some social media catching up, I got myself ready and out the room at 9.45. The weather was still dry at that point but had clouded over quite a bit more.
I stopped in for breakfast at the Bucket List Cafe up on Cambridge Street. I had scrambled eggs served with toasted sourdough and a very strong but very nice latte (and a second). By the time I left the cafe the weather had turned decidedly “dreich” and only got heavier as I walked along. I stopped under some shop facades because although I was protected enough by my umbrella, my cloth backpack wasn’t and I was getting worried about how wet things inside of it would get. The rain eased after several minutes and I walked onwards to the Kelvingrove.
My plans had chopped and changed over the weeks prior to arriving in Glasgow. Initially I wanted to see the Linda McCartney Retrospective, take in the Clyde, go down to Barras and Merchant City, have something to eat at a Cafe/Bar called Mono (with a fully vegan menu), then go back up to the Cineworld to catch a film before getting on the red-eye coach back to London. Then I thought, maybe with it being summer and the potential for good weather, I could go to the cathedral and then necropolis instead of the exhibition.
It was all change again when the weather seemed uninterested in playing along. So on I went to the Kelvingrove. Along the way, as I was making my way along Sauchiehall Street, just as I am walking by Royal Crescent, along comes this man on a bike. He’s in full MAMIL regalia and helmet…but there was something in the eyes. As he rode past me, he looked at me. I was drawn to those eyes. There was something familiar about them. Wishful thinking, I am sure…for one hopes that every street corner they turn into that you’ll see a familiar face. One hopes the serendipity would allow such a thing. It did with Derek once. Up in Glasgow for the Walk Between Worlds album signing, me and the OH were making our way back into the city from up the West End. As we’re walking down Argyle Street, who should we see walking along in the opposite direction but Mr Forbes. Well, I spotted him anyway. The OH was none the wiser. Lol. Did I make myself known or say hello? Hell no!
Anyway…Jim in lycra? Jim riding around the city on a bike? Naaaah! Doubt it.
The weather was still pretty dreich by the time I got to the museum, so the right choice was made. I left my bag in the cloak room and wanted to sit and have a coffee before going into the exhibition, but both cafes in the museum were heaving – it had just gone midday. The exhibition itself seemed relatively quiet and had no queue to go in so I decided to get straight on with it.
Souvenirs from the exhibition
Linda McCartney postcards
As you enter, you’re greeted with photos of a young Linda before her photographic career takes off. One or two self-portraits and then very early work of her capturing the Rolling Stones in New York on the Hudson in 1966 and some images of The Doors taken in 1967. To my surprise there were two wonderful photos of Linda that had been taken by Jim Morrison on display. I have to say, based on those two photos alone, Morrison himself wasn’t too shabby behind the lens!
Obligatory as it would be, there were several of her earliest photos taken of The Beatles and of Paul on his own. And there were also some absolutely stunning photos that Paul had taken of Linda.
The next room focussed more on later Beatles photos, mostly ones taken at Abbey Road, one of when Paul and Linda got together. And there were early family photos of Paul and Linda together and of Paul with Heather, Mary and Stella.
Elsewhere there were two sets of displays of polaroids showing intimate family life. Wonderful colourful images of the family on holiday and of local life in the places they went to. Life on the road, touring.
In the final room was a display of work dedicated to Scotland, incorporating family life on the farm as well as everyday life for the locals.
It was a really extensive retrospective with a lot to see. I really enjoyed it. I grabbed myself a few postcards from the gift shop on the way out.
As I left the museum I thought “Oh well, I’m down this way, might as well have a doughnut.” I walked over to the store on Old Dumbarton Road but it was quite full and still quite warm from the heat of the previous few days. I decided against it and headed on down towards the Clyde.
What’s better than a jamboree? ….
By the time I got down to the Clyde, the clouds were parting and the sun was making a full appearance. And by the time I got myself down to King Street and to Mono, the clouds were high and distant and the sun was glorious. It was quite warm inside Mono, so I thought I’d indulge in an alcoholic drink. I looked at the specials on the board and saw among the options a kumquat margarita. I knew kumquats are citrus so I thought it would be a rather refreshing thing to have on a sunny Sunday afternoon. It was delicious. I could have easily had another had they not been expensive and had I not feared getting tipsy. For my main I had the Schnitzel – served with roast potatoes (they didn’t seem roasted rather than boiled, with skins on) miso mustard cream, salad and beetroot chutney. It was really nice. And I indulged in a dessert of apple cake, served with a scoop of ice cream on top. It was all really delicious and the decor inside is nice. I’d definitely go there again. And there’s a music store within called Monorail. I had a look around, but nothing took my eye.
The Kumquat Margarita
After leaving Mono, I headed for Gallowgate and to Barrowland. It was the only point I had to get my phone out and refer to Google Maps. I knew I wasn’t far from there but I couldn’t quite get my bearings. I wanted to go to Barras so I could see the “Oor Ziggy” statute. There is a bucket trail on again this year. Last year it was penguin statutes and this year it is various decorated versions of Oor Wullie. The weather being as it was, I didn’t get to see as many Wullies (pun absolutely intended!) as I’d have liked. Lol. But I did see some. And I now realise, I missed seeing the one with Jim’s name on it. Damn! But I did get to see “Oor Ziggy”. Below are the Wullies I spied while I was up there.
Personalities of Glasgow
Life and Earth
I walked back through Merchant City and the market and had a quick perusal. I didn’t really see anything I fancied. Well, I saw one thing. A little plaque that said “Hame Sweet Hame” that I was tempted to buy to hang in the house that will be our hame that I hope we’ll buy within the next 12 months or so.
Another pit stop for an ice coffee and then up to the Cineworld for a film. I was hoping that, to tie in with seeing the exhibition earlier in the day, I’d get to see Yesterday. I got to Cineworld at 6.45 and the next screening of Yesterday was on at 7.50. It wasn’t due to finish until 10.15 which would have cut it fine for getting over to the station for my coach at 10.30. I thought it best not to chance it. With few other options and with at least 3 hours to waste, I decided on seeing The Lion King instead. I know! Lol. And I am sad to say I really did enjoy it. It has been really well done.
I grabbed a bottle of water for the journey home (and was armed with sesame snaps and a bag of marshmallows that I had bought earlier in the day) and was over at Buchanan Station at 9.40.
It was a long journey home…but it was a wonderful weekend.