Adam Faith – derrickjknight

Buzzards circled overhead this morning, causing a certain amount of consternation among the other birds.

During the morning I did my best to ignore yesterday’s Dr Who on BBC iPlayer and Eastenders, as everyone enjoyed an after the excitement low-key morning.

Matthew has bought Tess a cage and various other accoutrements for Guinea Pigs. It now remains for the little furry animals to be purchased. This involved on-line research and several phone calls resulting in leaving messages, which took me back to another post Christmas search in Newark in about 1990. The night before, one of Sam and Louisa’s pet rats had fled its cage and disappeared upstairs. The poor creature was hunted down and located behind a chest of drawers in Jessica and my daughter’s bedroom. A frantic shoving around of the furniture resulted in a fatal crushing.

I took on the task of seeking out a replacement during the holiday period. Off I drove with the children in the car. A pet shop in, I think, Mansfield was found open and with a supply of the required rodents. We chose a white one alleged to be two months old. It looked a little large to me, but we were assured it was just a baby.

Back home the new pet was pampered and cosseted. A few days later it was New Year’s Eve. Jessica and I were invited to spend the evening with friends. We did this and engaged our usual baby-sitter. Just after Auld Lang Syne we received a phone call from the teenager we had left in charge at Lindum House. ‘You know your new rat?’, she enquired, ‘Yes’, I replied. ‘Well, it’s just had seven babies’, she announced.

Jackie produced another magnificent meal this evening. This was delicious roast lamb followed by Christmas pudding. Red and white wines were imbibed, as was Pepsi Max.

As he helped his mother clear up in the kitchen after the meal, Matthew began treating us to his rendering of Adam Faith’s masterpiece. Both Mat and his sister knew by heart the words of ‘What Do You Want?’. Neither had ever heard the recording artist who was to become an actor and a successful investor and financial advisor, but they knew just how he sang because they had often ridden in a car driven by me in which they were subjected to my rendering of this and ‘Poor Me’. Mat had given me a copy of his CD for my 70th birthday. I just had to put it on the record player for everyone to have a good laugh over. Hearing the original for the first time Matthew and Becky both realised they could sing just like Adam Faith who sang just like their Dad. I don’t think it was the recording artist who was the source of amusement. I rather think it was me.

Later, we opened the tree presents. Becky had put one on for Jackie. It was Daisy Ashford’s ‘The Young Visiters’. We then laughed with tears rolling down our faces as Jackie read extracts.

The ‘flash of yellow flying’ in the garden Jackie saw this morning turned out to be a greenfinch. No-one uses this small communal garden in Morden to which we don’t have access, and which is no more than a patch of grass and ground elder occasionally strimmed by the owners’ staff. It abuts an overgrown railway embankment on one side and a blocked off path on the other. Small ash trees and brambles grow in abundance on the embankment. To the side of the flats is a railway bridge. Walking under the bridge and turning left brings you onto the path up to London Road alongside which is the disused schools sports ground. All this is why we think we have such a variety of birds and the foxes.

Unpacking the presents I was given on Saturday, I was reminded of Matthew’s performance towards the end of the party (posted yesterday).

He had given me a CD of Adam Faith’s songs, and gave us a perfect rendering of ‘What do you want?’. Of course, only the older people present recognised it, but this they certainly did. He explained that he had never heard the singer, but had learned it from listening to his Dad. But then I think every man of my generation can do it.

On leaving the flat this morning the drumming I heard was caused by a plastic Lucozade bottle bowling along the road. This was definitely a raincoat day (see 21st. June’s post). Walking under the railway bridge it was clear that the resident pigeons were doing their best to undo the work of a team of men who had spent a day last week clearing up their droppings. An emergency vehicle’s siren wailed in the distance. I would need a four year old to identify the service involved. Except for rooks cawing in Morden Park the birds were silent. The only other sound which penetrated the whistling of the wind I was leaning into was the rustling of the leaves in its wake, and, further into the park, the clattering of cars on the metal tracking on the approach to the temporary overflow carpark for Wimbledon tennis. I wished the wouldbe spectators luck.

Not many people braved the park this morning. Two Asian boys were walking an American bulldog. I was quite pleased it was on a lead and not free to frolic with me. A jogger was leading another wolf-like dog which seemed to have trouble keeping up with her. But then, if you take a dog for a run, by the time it has double tracked and sniffed at everything, it probably does five miles to your one.

Almost hidden in the undergrowth, like a fallen stone in a deserted graveyard, beside a barely passable track was an old ILEA (Inner London Education Authority) notice. This was the education arm of the GLC (see post of 29th. June).

On my return I took the overgrown passage (see post of 26th. June) between the park and Hillcroft Avenue, hoping that the fallen branch which had caused me such trepidation last time had been removed. No such luck. And even when younger I was no limbo dancer.

The wider opening to the path to London Road mentioned earlier is used as an unofficial car park, commonly used by visitors to the mosque (see 18th. May post). It is also used as a dumping ground for all sorts of rubbish. The picture which begins this piece is what it looked like as I began my walk. A cyclist speeding out of the derelict sports ground to the left of the area photographed almost cannoned into the pile of old broken furniture. ‘Bastard!’, he cried, ‘Should go to jail for that.’ On my return this had all been cleared. Full marks to the Council. This flytipping warning is further over on the park proper. The penalties threatened would not have satisfied the cyclist.

Briefly going shopping this afternoon, I risked leaving my raincoat behind. I got wet.

A couple of glasses of Campo Viejo riocha 2010, accompanying one of my sausage casseroles retrieved from the freezer, set the evening up nicely. Jackie had her customary Hoegaarden.

Tag: Adam Faith

What Do You Want?

Flytipping