I dont really like Dire Straits. But sometimes a piece of Music becomes so intertwined with a Time and Place that it transports you back to when you heard it. I was born and brought up 40 miles from France, but, like most people in East Kent, I wouldnt have dreamt of going there. Why on Earth would you do that? The food was funny and it was bad enough that the frogs would pile over on the ferries in the summer, clogging up Canterbury High Street, barging everyone out of the way with their Gallic elbows and shoplifting everything in sight. Or so the local, internationally enlightened folklore would have it. So I was 17 before I first went abroad for the first time, for a weeks residency The Boys had at the Gibus club in Paris. And I was almost 20 before I went on my first foreign holiday, for a week with my then girlfriend, now wife, to Las Palmas in Gran Canaria. And what an eye opener! Before then holidays were times spent looking from a caravan with my brothers at the Cornish drizzle, or giving up in the Lake District to come home early as the wind and rain threatened to wash our tent away. But what was this now? Sunshine! And strawberries! In February! And the funny food wasnt funny! It was delicious! Las Palmas tended to cloud over so every day we took the bus to the appropriately named Playa Del Ingles where we grilled ourselves, ate grilled food, drank San Miguels and headed back on the bus at the end of the day. Every evening as the bus rounded a hill to come back into Las Palmas the bus drivers radio seemed to play Sultans Of Swing. And so a song by a group I dont really like, lead by a grumpy multi millionaire who wouldnt lend me a fiver when we were both recording in Roundhouse studios, is capable of inducing a trance like Happiness every time I hear it.
Posted on: Mon, 22 Sep 2014 05:23:17 +0000
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