Tag: music

You! Ginger Rogers – Off

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I recall that the sun smiled upon the town away back in May 1970. The main street was awash of baskets and planters of yellows, whites and shades of light blue. My eyes glanced towards MacKenzie the Bakers where all sorts of delicious delights tempted one’s taste buds – apple and cream turnovers, cream cookies, raspberry pyramids, oh the choice.  Perhaps it’s nostalgia but it is my opinion that cakes were tastier back then.

A line of school age teenagers had assembled at the bus stop, and I was anticipating the arrival of my friends, marked by the sound of their approaching footsteps. I was seated at my customary spot, upstairs near the rear of the vehicle, commonly referred to as the “shougley bus,” bound for Twechar.

Soon my friends surrounded me, and as soon as they and I greeted one another it was the custom to jump into all things that were important to us girls in their first year of secondary school.   At this point I have to say that I was at a different school to my friends. I shall go into the reason why at a later stage.  Anyway, the top deck of the bus was full of teenagers in brown and blue uniform delighted that school for the day had finished. We were going home.

It was dance class that cemented my friendship with Megsey, we had been close since the beginning of primary school, and then her schoolmates became my friends.    I recall that Megsey was just about to bring out her copy of Jackie, the premier teenage magazine of the day when the words ‘There she stood in the street’ burst into the airwaves.

It was a WOW moment.  It was the first time that I heard the song ‘All Right Now’ by Free.  The song which propelled me into rock music.   Well, I kid you not, as soon as I heard it, I bounced up onto my feet.  I was mesmerized by the song and in a blink of an eye I was on the top deck of that bus, my arms in the air slip sliding and side stepping away. Well, much to my astonishment, by the mere act of dancing, this ignited the whole top deck into song. For a moment happiness was right there on the top deck.  

However, away back then every bus had a conductor onboard and putting it mildly he was not a happy bunny. I was commanded to get off, and there was no opportunity to plead my case.  It was a loud, ‘you, Ginger Rogers – off’.

So off I went wondering what had I really done wrong. I would have moved back to my seat. I was in no way going to argue my case, citing that it was rather unfair that my few moments of dance was viewed through a deviant lens.  Upon glancing towards his snarling facial gesture, the best option was to get off. However, I have to add, that the one positive aspect was that my friends, all in solidarity accompanied me off the bus.

Many of you will probably cite that my actions were nothing more than mere trouble making. In essence, it is not appropriate behaviour to dance on a bus and indeed you may well be correct. If you fall into this belief, may I take a moment to defend myself. 

I was the ‘Rockin Roll Baby’ highlighted in the song of the same name by The Stylistics.  Although instead of singing at the age of two I danced.   Dance was a means of expressing and telling stories. For me it’s a way of communicating deep feelings. In difficult times I often found a quiet place to dig deep into my emotional dilemmas and concerns. I believe it is innate in my personality.   I used to spend quite a bit of time enacting my own choreography, honing perfect steps such as step heel, step heel, dig tap, then maybe a brush.   Music always made me throw caution at the wind, compelling me to dance. Sadly, it wasn’t the first time I got myself into bother because music with its beats and rhythms seduced me to dance.

My friends and I giggled our way home and the whole experience was soon forgotten except in those moments when one is required to tell a funny story.  Strange as it may be, sometimes life is serendipitous and this proved to be the case in May 1970.  I had been asked by my dance teacher to source a song for my solo dance for the end of term Dancing Display.  Time was running out and I just couldn’t find a song to dance to. My dance teacher cautioned me that if I didn’t have a song by the coming weekend she would pick one for me.   Surely, I told myself, ‘All Right Now’ would be a perfect tune to dance to. 

Joy was upon me as I rushed into my Saturday afternoon dance class.  I handed the tape recording of my song to my dance teacher. No Spotify or YouTube accessible by phone back then. I had to play the single on a record player and record it onto a tape recorder. Unfortunately, the song did not give my dance teacher joy.  She turned towards me with over-arched eyebrows, shook her head, left and right and mouthed ‘no’. 

So, to bring this post to a conclusion, at the end of June I did my solo dance but as she warned, with a song of her choosing.  And no I don’t want to tell you what song it was. That shall remain a secret. However, I will give you a clue, it was rather sugary and saccharine. Not a good choice for someone who thought she was ‘ kool’. In hindsight I was really a girl without a clue.

Until next time. 

What’s Wrong With Day-Dreaming

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I was the girl who sat behind the desk, my eyes lost in the grand designs of clouds.  The wisps of white fluffy bewitched me. Landscapes of endless forests, dragons and white wolves seduced me to enter re-imagined worlds.  The clatter of a tossed duster would interrupt my wandering thoughts and brought me back to the moment.  There was to be no day-dreaming in class.

My days of mind wandering are not confined to childhood. I still day-dream.   At this stage in my life I have come to accept that is a part of my natural personality.  I am adamant that it is a personality mode and despite what people including some psychologists maintain, it is not merely a bad habit to modify nor an escape mechanism.

It is a need like eating and sleeping.   Yes, on many occasions I tried to refrain from entering my world of fantasy but it always ended up in failure.   

I believe day-dreaming offers an opportunity to disengage for a short period of time. I am unable to cope with the continual relay of words after words.  

From an early age I loved nothing more than to let my eyes wander through beautiful illustrations in books.  I was awe struck by the colour, the characters and the imagined world.  I preferred comic books to books although I did read quite a few of the classics.   I would sit for several hours reading one comic. 

Away back then I don’t think there was much awareness of the introvert personality.  If there were, well it certainly cruised over my teachers and parent’s heads.   Despite not being a quiet person, I felt pushed to participate in anything that would ‘get me out my shell’.  And don’t mention being a team player.

I often sensed deep concern for me in that it was unnatural to want to find a quiet place and be content in one’s own company.   I saw the relief in my mother when I enrolled at a local dance school.  She wasn’t aware that dance also fulfilled my love of re-imagined worlds.  Dance allowed me to tell stories through movement.  I liked nothing better than to feel and then express the emotions in the music.  

There seems to be this common narrative that a well adjusted person has to have a good network of people, enjoy socializing, and be gregarious.  In this capitalist world, we need to turn ourselves into a brand and then be productive in selling oneself to advance the career ladder.  I truly find this difficult and the thought of doing so totally phases me out.  

Moreover, I have to ask – How often, is the solitary person depicted as psychologically or socially inadequate and this can be seen in films and literary works. The question I ask – why has this narrative has taken hold in society what purpose does it serve.  From my viewpoint this completely clashes with the contrasting narrative of you are enough so it is important to be yourself and own your self-confidence.   If the latter is the case then it would appear I was confidently being myself in my younger years.

My younger self was never ever in a shell.  I admit I liked time alone but I had friends.   OK, I only had two very close friends who I met through our mutual love of dance but I had great conversation with different people in each class at school.   I just didn’t have the time to give what it takes to be a decent friend to more than two people.   The fact is that lengthy times in group settings drains me.  The noise is overwhelming and words get lost in each other resulting in nothing other than a hollow sounding din.

So let me take you back to 1970.  Imagine, if you can a sky slate grey and blasts of icy cold shards banging against the window.  The upper deck of the bus was dank and the smoke stuck in hair and eyebrows.  Now, imagine, the most wonderful thing; someone at the front with a radio and out comes a song. It captivates my whole being.  It lures me onto my feet the rhythm bewitches me. I am dancing. The song was All Right Now by Free.

There was no ill intention on my part whatsoever, I was happy despite the ‘dreich’ day lost in the song but the bus conductor grabbed me by the shoulder and tossed me off the bus as if I had committed some heinous act.   Dancing on the upper deck of a bus is not the action of someone who is in a shell.  

I could further enquire why dancing in public is frowned upon.  Why should we only boogie in a club or dance hall.   However, that’s a topic for another day if I feel so inclined.  Oh and for the record, I wasn’t causing a nuisance by leaping down the aisle, I remained in the back row.  

Unfortunately, due to being conditioned into  extroversion I foolishly tried to be the life and soul of the party. 

Of course, I failed miserably.  In doing so I ended up living a chaotic lifestyle for quite an extensive time.  Foolishly, I trapped myself in the clutches of people that sucked the life from me and maintaining such a persona gave mixed messages and I became ill.   In fact I ended up agoraphobic.

Moreover, the body language I  presented was rather hostile as I acted in a contrived manner.   I believe I lost a lot in the process.  I would have fared better if I allowed my natural personality to come through.   In my defence, I would have to say that even if the weird was implicated rather than said, it still played a negative factor upon my life. 

Now after a long rocky road I have eventually come into my own and I have chosen to live a quiet and simple life.  I still day-dream.  There are times when I feel somewhat saddened by the years I wasted. 

The narrative my parents, teachers and community placed over me was detrimental to my well-being. It seeped into my mind and in an attempt to resist I ended up all tangled up in ropes of wrong decisions.  Rather than encouraging me to go to art college, I was corralled into subjects that would get me a proper job.  Of course, I failed miserable and this consolidated me as being labeled  thick.   It was only in recent years that I managed to rip that label off.  

To be continued.