The Book of Enitharmon

Regular readers of this journal will know that one of my favourite blogs is Popular at Freakytrigger in which Tom Ewing - aka freakytigger - is undertaking the mammoth task of reviewing all the number one hits since the inception of the British charts and marking them out of ten. We've reached 1971 now, and just about to record the 300th out of 1000+, so there's a way to go yet. Tom has a good crowd of camp followers to make the journey an enjoyable one although I'm not sure I'll be going through to the terminus.

I find I agree pretty well on Tom's assessments (and his commentary is far more astute than mine could ever be) although there have been points where I disagreed quite strongly. And I think he has been a tad unkind to the 1960s which were, surely, the Golden Age of pop - especially around 196-67. But perhaps that's because it coincided with my own pop years before I got into headier stuff. Until this week, Tom had only awarded 10 on three occasions: to Nancy Sinatra's These Boots Are Made For Walking (which made me raise an eyebrow but it did make me listen to it properly and Lee Hazlewood's arrangement is something special); to the Beatles for Eleanor Rigby/Yellow Submarine, and to Desmond Dekker's Israelites. I'd concur heartily with the latter two. Personally I'd also have regarded as a shoo-in for a 10 the Animals' House Of The Rising Sun from 1964 (which Tom only gave 6 - shame on him!), the Beach Boys' Good Vibrations (1966), and Marvin Gaye's I Heard It Through The Grapevine.

This week Tom awarded his fourth 10 to T Rex and Hot Love, and all at once I saw I was being left behind. Bolan, the traitor, the psychedelic star of Tyrannosaurus Rex, selling out to the demons of commerce! (It's a good song though, and T Rex, IMHO, didn't get better). He who was Fair was now content to wear Stars on his Brow! Something else also hit me. It seems that for many of a generation after mine, pop didn't begin with The Beatles, who were an archaeological curiosity, but with T Rex, while I was wrapping myself in the world of the now-despised progressive music!

You live and learn...

Dexy's Midnight Runners topped the charts with Geno.

Hull Kingston Rovers beat Hull FC 10-5 in the Rugby League Challenge Cup Final at Wembley.

And me, I spent the day at Hedon Road Maternity Hospital in an all-but-deserted Hull, waiting for my daughter Karen to make her public debut. She wasn't in a hurry - she didn't decide to come out until 9.30 in the evening, and that was under duress. She liked it where she was. Sensible girl!

Happy twenty-sixth birthday, Karen!

I went out for a walk to see if I could see any fireworks.

There were plenty around, I could see or hear them. But the strange thing was that the streets seem eerily silent despite the almost constant bangs and shrieks. There are no bonfires. None at all, not even in the distance. No parties in the garden. No sparklers, no waft of baked potato, no smoke in the air. That's it, the air should be thick and smoky and autmnal. Instead it's crisp and clean and dark and rather sterile.

I wonder when it all stopped?