All men dream, but not equally.
Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity;
But the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible.
and some dreams are but nightmares
some things look better in black and white
While Californians were listening to drug culture bands like Jefferson Airplane, filmed in glorious Technicolor at Woodstock, we English were listening to bands like The Rolling Stones ~ here filmed in grainy monochrome in Ireland. As a matter of fact we English thought everyone in California went around saying; ‘peace and love….’ If you said that here in the sixties you were likely to get smacked.
You decide which is better, The Stones or Jefferson Airplane.
Actually, I prefer The Beatles.
And we say ‘aeroplane…’
another 1960’s English icon
works Mini Cooper
I’m late, I’m late, for a very important date
In the 60’s and 70s we English were not listening to Californian music, so I have never heard this track from Jefferson Airplane before. Woodstock passed us by with barely a murmur The reason I’m playing it now is that we English greet or friends with; ‘white rabbits’ on the first of the month, which was yesterday. (Of course there has to be an R in the month.)
Convoluted I know, and on first hearing I’m not certain I like Californian surfer-dude bands anyhow.
But hey, I like Jefferson Starship, so I’m certain that Jefferson Airplane will grow on me, like a weed.
This track probably sounds better if you’re high.
To we English California is still
Alice through the looking glass
when I was a kid it was a trek to go to the toilet across the yard
the sea froze
her dream road trip didn’t turn out so well
don’t ask what your dreams mean
you don’t want to know
nothing happens until we dream it
woman is a creation of dreams and desires
not a creation of wants and needs
she dreamed of finding the perfect lover
and then she bought one
OH GOD! she exclaimed
then she realised it was just a hot wet dream
real life is both a bad dream and a nightmare
the future belongs to women who follow their dreams
women need and desire to be cherished, understood, loved
men want sex
Men evolved as solitary hunters, and their main contribution to the human race was the ability to hit a moving target so that everybody could eat. Sometimes several men from the same tribe gathered together as a cooperative team so they could kill something bigger so that more people could eat.
Any woman reading that will immediately see where the male fascination with sports comes from. Sports are all about the ability of one man to hit a moving target, often with the help of the other players on his team. Cricket, baseball, football, basketball ~ lady, you name it and it’s the same thing ~ personal responsibility, hand-eye coordination, spacial awareness, calmness under pressure, hitting a moving target, instant gratification, win / lose. And it comes from tens of thousands of years of evolution.
This is one reason why men like to wear uniforms, hats, colours, insignia that indicates their personal competence and membership of a successful team. Teams are not discussion groups, a sports team is really a hunting and killing machine. Every man feels that he is perfectly capable of solving his own problems and does not see any reason to talk about them with anybody else; up to and including you. This is the reason a man will never ask for directions ~ real men do not use in-car satellite navigation because the damn woman keeps on offering advice.
Nowhere in there does it say anything about feelings, discussion, emotion, nurturing, understanding, socialising, and asking for help. Men are not wired to discuss, listen, feel, accept, empathise, or talk just for the sake of talking. Most of the time when a woman really wants her guy to show some empathy and understanding what he will do is offer her a solution. He thinks he is being caring and loving by solving her problems, and she knows he is being uncaring and indifferent, trivialising her feelings by not listening to her.
Actually most good men try to listen to their lady, but what he hears is the blah blah blah of moaning, nagging, complaining, and talking just for the sake of talking.
When men do talk it’s usually in a language women do not easily understand; either because it’s technical or it sounds like monosyllabic grunting.
A woman may dream of and desire a perfect man, but smart women know that ‘perfect man’ is an oxymoron. In many ways her perfect man would be gay, or at least metrosexual ~ and what real woman would want that?
Real men just don’t do non-sexual relationships ~ unless they are prepared to try, try, and try again.
Marmaduke is a male bear
he likes sitting all by himself
thinking about nothing much
strut your stuff down main street
Another part of my morning routine, learning the ultra cool swaggering walk, aka the Travolta Strut. I have this nailed, lots better than some Zebra.
You can tell by the way I use my walk that I’m a woman’s man.
Stayin’ alive ~ more than only just.
don’t try that walk if you’re a woman
it will make you look like a hooker
it is the hero’s glittering heart that fights the fight
Amid these dark days one old war hero decided to try to do something for England, Home, and Beauty.
Ninety-nine years old, Captain Tom Moore set off walking laps of his own garden to try and raise a little money for our National Health Service. He thought his efforts could possibly raise a hundred pounds.
His efforts, his humility and dogged good humour caught the public attention. Perhaps none of us could be as good as this little old soldier, but we could contribute to his cause. When it was all added up, Captain Tom raised £38.9 million for the National Health Service.
Along the way he celebrated his 100th birthday, was knighted by the queen, and awarded an Honorary Colonelcy of the Army Foundation College.
He passed away on Tuesday February 2nd 2021 from pneumonia and complications from the coronavirus.
We shall not mourn him, nor shall his memory die.
Least We Forget
lazy Sunday afternoon
I’ve got no mind to worry
I close my eyes and drift away
Quite suddenly I’ve some to believe that there are some songs an English Gentleman shouldn’t play of a Sunday afternoon, and some others that perfectly fit the Sabbath. Ergo, this is the first of what is going to be a regular feature on this here blog. Little Star by Madonna. This is for a very close friend.
I don’t expect you to completely agree with me.
But then an Englishman never gives a hoot for another person’s opinions.
These days I’m more Californian, cosmopolitan, transatlantic, edgy, than died-in-the-wool, stuffy, staid English Gentleman
and I have no plans to amputate my ear