grindstone cowboy

In Lambton Square, checking out the dulcet tones of the checkout chick in Subway (previously blogged at eatWell(ington)), leaving with my six inches toasted…over the speakers, Glen Campbell’s ‘Wichita Lineman’. I was transported back more years than I thought possible. My father had organised a family reunion at home, and some of my cousins who were older than me brought records to supply music. They probably knew well that we wouldn’t have had anything hip and trendy. My cousins were kind enough – I was amazed by their generosity at the time – to lend me their records for a week. I recalled one of the 45’s was that Glen Campbell song. I played it, and others they brought, over and over on the radiogram. Radiogram. Like a stereo, but made of wood with one large, all encompassing speaker.

It wasn’t our radiogram – I don’t know exactly who it belonged to, but I know there were records (LP’s) stored in the cupboard underneath. I seem to recall a Leontyne Price LP (I can’t imagine why), and definitely Beethoven’s Eroica (probably Karajan’s).

I’m often transported by music – sometimes, as in this case, to a specific time and place. I can often recall exactly what I was wearing, other sounds and smells. The scene is complete.

I wondered, as I wandered back to the grindstone, if Glen Campbell has now been re-encoded in my sound storage facility, in the 21st century…I felt quite ‘homesick’ for the simpler times, and grateful for my cousin’s generosity of spirit – they’ll probably never know what a difference that simple act made decades later.


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