Memories from 1920

It's ashamed I am to see it has been ten months since I last made a post. I'd started a new blog and one thing led to another and this old one sort of became lost somewhere. Does this I wonder happen with other bloggers - they post regularly be it on a daily basis or once a week and after a while, it gets left by the wayside.

Recently on a city blog the blog owner had a photographed a bicycle part and said something like how hard it is to post a photo every day. This is something I can relate to, you post photos daily and love doing it but after a while it becomes a chore. And that my friends, is when it stops being fun. I do remember telling myself I would post on here once a week, every Friday. That didn't last.

So much has happened where does one begin? Hmmm...


Anyway, I hope you enjoy this week's choice which I purposely went looking for after hearing it played on Downton Abbey. In series 2, episode 8, when members of the Crawley family are struck down with Spanish flu, Matthew puts the gramaphone on, Lady Mary comes along the upper gallery. She peers down, sees Matthew (whom we all know still carries a flame for even though she won't admit it to herself) and comes down the stairs. She tells him she hasn't heard this song before, he says it was from a show called Zip goes a million which flopped. They dance, it's sort of dreamy and the music disappears, only the soft voices of the dancers are heard.
Suddenly there's Lavinia who you can't help feeling sorry for.

I'm Not Me Anymore ...

Wrinkles. Do you have them and how bad are they? When I look in the mirror, the person looking back at me is someone I don't recognise. Who is this old lady with more wrinkles than a bloodhound? This can't be me - I want the old me back, the one with the smooth, unlined face who is still me inside. I don't want to be old - I don't feel old (well not much anyway) I want me face to reflect the me that feels young.
Where did the time go and where has she gone? Once not so very long ago it seems, the world was my oyster and anyone over thirty was over the hill. Each day was a thrill, each minute a moment to be lived and each second a lifetime.
What happened?

I remember reading an interview given by that Blonde Bombshell, that Saucy Sexpot - Mae West, who when asked her age, always answered, "Twenty-eight plus" What a great idea I thought. I'll give the same answer - it seemed so much better than saying, "Twenty-one" My mother was always twenty-one until one day I said, "Mum, you were twenty-one last year" to which she replied, "Oh, well I'm twenty-two now" I always thought it pretty silly for females to always pretend and say "21".
So Mae West's answer was much cleverer, the only problem was, I remember thinking, "Damn! I can't say that, I'm not 28 yet."

Twenty-eight was a long tine ago how I wish I still had the quandary of not having reached 28 yet.
What happened?

I don't remember where the years have gone, but the mirror, like the camera - never lies. Or does it? Looking in the looking glass I see someone who's beginning to sag a bit, gravity having done it's best not to hold back the tide, and everything like the leaning tower of Pisa.
What happened?

When did I suddenly become old?

 

Getting old is not for sissies - Bette Davies.