Posted by: tabliope | November 27, 2008

this isn’t about musical taste, okay?

Recently I was telling a friend how I tend to think of my friends as being the age they were when I first met them and I have to count up to where they are now.  But, more worryingly, I tend to think that I'm that age too and when I meet up with old friends and think, 'oh, you're getting older' I realise that they're probably the best mirror I'm going to get.  It probably sounds crazy when I say that I forget that people get older but I do.  I forgot it with my parents, I continue to forget it with my in-laws and I'm forgetting it forever where I'm concerned.

In 1970 I was 13-years-old and living in that schizophrenic world of knowing one moment that I was IT and then the next moment being in deep despair and knowing that I would never be good enough for anything.  Mostly I carried my crushes secretly to spare myself from all the things that go with being 13-years-old because I was a fairly unconfident teenager and wasn't part of the set that set the social rules for what we could and couldn't like.  Although I had the days where I behaved as if I was the most important person in the world,  I wasn't convinced enough by this that I could set a trend so I would tend to wait and see who I was meant to be crushing and then carry on my own little love affairs in secret.  The treacherous teenage heart.

I really can't remember where James Taylor fitted into all this but Johnny is convinced that his sisters thought he was fab so either his sisters were as uncool as I was or else we were all part of the zeitgeist.  For some reason we ended up talking about James Taylor yesterday evening and the song, Sweet Baby James, which I loved then and still love now.  Johnny couldn't remember it so I brought it up on You Tube; there was the 1970 version which we played and we talked about how his sisters had loved him and I had thought he was lovely.  Then I found the later version and …you know……well, you know, it was 38 years ago so what did I expect?

ps:(and I'm not going to tell you how many times I've added and subtraced 1970/2008 because 38 years seems like a loooooooong time.)

pps:  (and they don't make tank tops like that any more either!)



  1. [this is good] I do that too - when I see footage of Blue Peter I automatically think that Lesley Judd and Peter Purves et al are all older than me in the clip, whereas the reality is that I’m now probably a good 15 years older than they were when it was recorded.  Strange that.

  2. [this is good] Definitely. B-But does this mean we aren’t 22 any more? Nooooooooooooooooooo *wails into distance*

  3. [this is good] I think this is trite to say anymore–because a lot of people say it, or think it, or look it–but I consider myself to be 14 years 21. If that makes sense. Only, recently I’ve been waking up in the mornings and my damn back is stiff as hell, and my legs hurt, and I’ve got this cramp in my wrist and hand that I’ve only heard older people describe before.
    Not too long ago I was helping my brother in law move furniture, and he, being 21 himself in actual years, was hefting and barely breaking any sweat. I looked down and I’m drenched like my father used to get. (I can’t even think about repetitive motion anymore without breaking a sweat.) After moving the box springs, my heart was racing, I couldn’t catch my breath, my eyes were swelling up and I could see stars.
    I realized I was finally 35.

  4. Why do you think I got horribly hungover the other week when I met up with old College pals? We all thought we were 21 again and could still drink our age in pints.

  5. Lordy – if I tried that now, I’d be certified dead before I reached my 10th birthday.

  6. Tank top aside – that’s still the dog’s ..
    The best bit about my recent hospital nonsense is that all of the nurses (and I mean all) have asked me repeatedly if I’m sure about my date of birth – they’ve all been convinced I’m at least a decade younger.
    Although that probably just means that I’m a bit retarded.  P’raps I should stop wearing the skinny jeans …

  7. It’s a simple mathematical equation.  It takes in more elements than the mere passage of time:
    How old do you look + how old do you feel + how old are you in reality.  Divide the sum by three.  The number you come up with is your real age.
    And Sweet Baby James remains one of my favorite songs.

  8. that’s the sort of maths that I like, Aubrey.Pog – recently someone asked me how old I was and they said I couldn’t be because I looked like  a mädchen (young girl).  I think this was more about subtle lighting than anything else.

  9. Hence my love of dark pubs and wine bars ….  Although the hospital was horridly lit with fluorescents.  Couldn’t have hurt that I was looking lots healthier than the poor people dealing with chemo, though.

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