ATMP

Nothing lasts forever; I guess it's inevitable. George Harrison probably put it best (he often did) when in 1970 he said, quite simply, All Things Must Pass.

A couple of things this week have knocked me off my perch; although unrelated they both fall into the ATMP category. El Goodo (Lazy welsh psychedelic band - their strap line, not mine) announced on Twitter this week that they were breaking up: 'We're sorry to announce that El Goodo is no more, we're calling it a day. Thanks to everyone who has supported us over the past twenty odd years. Adiois Amigos. Hyyl Fawr." To say I'm gutted is an understatement. Although I came to the party late, one of the albums that got me thru LD1 was their immaculate 'Zombie' from last year; chockablock full of glorious toe tapping tunes. As swansongs go it's perfect. Live fast, die hard and leave a good looking corpse; as somebody, not George Harrison, once said.

And then, as if this news wasn't bad enough, another Twitter announcement from the makers of one of my favourite podcasts. We Share These Streets (True tales of everyday folk in bygone Nottingham) dropped this bombshell yesterday: "A quick message to let you all know that episode 20 of We Share These Streets will be the final one one. As we all come out of lockdown and life returns to a sort of normality, we're finding it more challenging to make the time needed to research, write and tell the stories as a regular show. Thank you so much for listening and being part of the community." Again, gutted. These 20 minute vignettes of my hometown have been put together with such love, care and attention they are just perfect. But what can you do? All Things Must Pass. Whether it be Hillman Hunters or typewriters, Ceefax or Spangles, fax machines or white dog poo, honest politicians or Little Chefs - they don't make 'em anymore.

A bit like the threepenny bits I bought on a market stall last Saturday - one from 1938 and another, more shiny, from 1967. I asked the stall holder if he'd shined the later one up. He said no, explaining to me that the nickel content was much greater in '67 - it being the last year they were minted. You live and you learn, as somebody far wiser than me once said.

Heads

Tails

All Things Must Pass

In January 1969, when George Harrison played Macca his demo of All Thing Must Pass (George was pitching songs for the next album), McCartney pretended he could hear the phone ringing in the next room and practically ran out of the room shouting 'I must get that.'
Suffice it to say that Macca and his group didn't get that; instead, George saved it for his own jaw-dropping triple album of the same name he brought out eighteen months later. Much to McCartney's chagrin.
People who have met Paul McCartney will tell you he's shrewd. Well, let me tell you, he ain't that shrewd.

Inclement

Gardening in the Rain: an excerpt taken from The Daily Telegraph's website. Stay Dry - Get some wet weather kit. A waterproof hat with a rim allows more movement than a hood. Wellies are fine for most garden duties, but, for carrying heavy items or digging, walking boots offer more protection. For quick dashes it's worth keeping a pair of plastic clogs by the back door.

In her article Liz Dobbs makes no mention of gnome etiquette;  we must assume, therefore, that leaving garden gnomes out in all weathers is discretional.

Biblical proportions

1963 

Deuteronomy 15:1 - At the end of every seven years thou shalt make a release.

1970

And so it came to 'Pass'.

The lights go down

Hull's finest: Ken Wagstaff & Chris Chilton*

You don't have to be a fan of Hull City to read this post. You don't even have to be a fan of football. Here's the back-story: Boothferry Park was the home of Hull City from 1946-2002. They've never been a fashionable club. And until recently they've never been a particularly successful club; they plied their trade in the lower leagues for many years in front of a faithful following - many arriving at the ground by train. That's right, by train. The platform being at the back of the East Stand.

But then they moved. Not far, but they left Boothferry Park. To a shiny new stadium (as Boothferry Park itself must have been once upon a time) that looks like any other shiny new stadium; soulless and characterless. And what became of Boothferry Park? Look away now if you well up easily. This film was made in 2006.




The story as you've probably gathered doesn't have a happy ending. The final three floodlights came down last Saturday; now there's no visible evidence that football was ever played there. Again, those with a weak heart are advised not to click here unless they get a kick out watching three short clips depicting the decline (quite literally) of each remaining pylon.

I'm so glad my dad doesn't have access to the internet. We were both born in Hull and it was my dad who took me to see my first game of football at Boothferry Park in 1969. It would break his heart.

* I politely refrained from calling them Hull's leading lights