Thursday, November 12, 2009

I was sixteen, or fifteen. I had learned three chords on the guitar and I had just managed to make the right sort of noise out of a trumpet. I had just learned "Freight Train" and listened, but really listened to Mozart for the first time. I was reading Neville Shute and F Scott Fitzgerald, perhaps also Ian Flemming. I had been in love, but it had never been reciprocated. I was a goofy, spotty, wavy haired misfit longing to grow up.


Anonymous said...

Fifteen or sixteen in 1961? I guess that means you had that many birthdays under your belt and god look at how many more have come your way since then! How wonderful to be remembered on your birthday (or sometime thereafter...) by friends and family (excepting those with their heads up their ass - literally or figuratively). Oh, now that I can see the light I do wish to be one of those people who remember your birthday. Happy Birthday and many more to come all celebrated in good health.

marc aurel said...

Mmm. Thanks.