On the count of ten
Grandad June 4th, 2007
Herself ran out of cigarettes.
I nipped down to the shop.
Bought her ten.
Up yours, Harney.
Grandad June 4th, 2007
Herself ran out of cigarettes.
I nipped down to the shop.
Bought her ten.
Up yours, Harney.
Grandad June 4th, 2007
What is your favourite classical composer?
That question was posed to me over the weekend and somehow it evoked memories of childhood.
I was forever being asked my favourite pop singer [though in those days it wasn't known as 'pop'] or my favourite football team.
Whatever answer I gave was the wrong one and I’d get beaten up and jeered at. Because the right answer depended, not only on the questioner but on his mood.
Somehow I had an instinctive knowledge that this was part of the ritual of establishing a pecking order. Like dogs. But they only pissed on me once, when in a moment of panic I replied ‘Millwall’. I hated football and didn’t know one team from another, so I don’t know why I said that.
I had four things going against me at school - I was tall and skinny; I had glasses; I was very quiet and I was a pacifist. So I stood out from the crowd and was a natural target. It was the natural order of things so I didn’t complain. That was just the way things were.
As for my favourite classical composer? I don’t know. I like Mozart and I like Beethoven. I like Vivaldi and I like Handel. But there are pieces they wrote that I don’t like so much. I go for the song, not the singer.
If I had to bring just two tracks to a desert island I would probably go for Vidor’s Toccata & Fugue in D Minor, or Adiemus by Karl Jenkins.
And if you don’t like that answer, you can beat me up if you like.
I don’t care.