I woke up, just now, with 'Darling Be Home Soon' going through my head - but the Slade version. I've said before, I believe, how the first song I liked, that wasn't what my parents liked or what my schoolmates liked, was 'Leaving On a Jet Plane' by Peter, Paul and Mary. The first band I was into, by the same token, was Slade. Nowadays I'm embarrassed by that, first for them continuing once that fine actor Noddy Holder had quit; then, mortifyingly, because they then recruited a guy who became romantically involved with Rose West. Not quite as bad as having been a Gary Glitter fan I suppose. I can think of one particular old friend who probably dreads class reunions. Something that's long bugged me is quite the popularity of Elton John, when Bernie Taupin wrote all the words. Much as did Hal David for everything Burt Bacharach was fêted for. I started reading Bacharach's autobiography, but gave up about half way through because he was a crude, barely-educated boor. Who'd'a'guessed! I had to take a break just now to catch the Giant House Spider that multi-legged it under my bed. Yes, it's that time of year again! "Wheeeee!" he went as he sailed out the window. Others I didn't finish: Keith Richards - a bit of a simpleton. Eric Clapton - a simpleton and a God botherer. Bruce Springsteen - possibly the most arrogant man on Earth ('The Boss' is his nickname for himself - like Paul 'The Guvnor' Ince - I'd say 'The Fuckhead' would be more appropriate. For both of them). I'm scared to read Rock star autobiographies now.
