Thursday, 1 March 2012

LAST TRAIN TO CLARKSVILLE...



To be honest, I was never much of a MONKEES fan.  Sure, I
watched the TV show (sometimes), the same as everyone else of a
certain age in the country, but - on reflection - it seems to have been
a programme aimed more at teenage girls, so it was really a bit lost
on me.  Years later, once the nostalgia factor had kicked in, I came
to recall the programme with a certain degree of affection, as it
represented a specific period in my past from which I could
never quite escape.  (Not that I wanted to.)

Now, as an adult (allegedly), I actually quite like a few of
the songs that The Monkees were responsible for - albeit, I have
to admit, mainly because when I hear them I'm a boy once more,
living in the 'swinging '60s' when life seemed to be simpler
and more carefree than it is today.

So I'm actually saddened to hear of the death of ENA
SHARPLES' grandson - alias Monkee DAVY JONES - at the
far too young age of 66.  Never knew nor met him, so obviously my
feelings are selfish ones, resulting from seeing yet another part of my
childhood being entered into the great 'lost property' catalogue in the
sky.  His passing serves to remind those of us who lived through
the '60s of our own fragile and ever-diminishing mortality.

I only wish I knew when my 'last train' was due - I'd try and lose
the ticket.  (Or at least swap it for the first available 'return'.) 

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