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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