For obvious reasons (NUDITY), this video disappears from Youtube just as soon as you might say, 'Jack Robinson'... I hope it is here for you today...
I love this song, with its undertones of what we feel in life... That longing to belong, to be loved... To be a part of THAT tribe, or THIS tribe... To be different... While at the same time, to be free and to be accepted for what you are...
In my own life, I have been described as 'Bohemian' on a number of occasions... I take it to mean arty and creative, outre, colourful and a little mad, as opposed to a 'hacky dorty', laissez-faire housekeeper, which I am too!
I'm never sure if there's a compliment in there, or not!
Make up your own mind...!
I often have the strangest of feelings, particularly when I'm on holiday abroad in Europe; About how I could disappear, and properly assimilate myself into that culture, picking up the language (for I am a linguist), and how I could try to pass as a native among native souls...
I do always feel more 'at home' in most of Europe than I do in much of the Unied Kingdom; My skin fits better, mes sensibilities, my dress sense and colouring too...
I feel it's a very strange thing for me to feel... Dontcha think?
...Incidentally, I always envy people who have an interesting past, who have lived life, who can trace their family history to some significant moments of heroism or belle epoque... I have no fascinating, if tragic, family history that involves holocaust or Madame La Guillotine...
I seem to be a descendant from very 'pedestrian,' if lovely, folk...
Hard-working men and women, miners and labourers, housewives and tram conductresses... People who made their living from the land, or who helped to exploit the land to line the pockets of sometimes already rich men... Or those who provided a service, like running the sweet-counter at Woolworths, or the Co-Op Tea Rooms...
My adored grandmother, Ellen (known as Nelly), together with her elder sister, Jane (rather Jenny), left their 11 siblings (at an age younger than my son is now) to 'live in' to clean the grates and light the fires in a big country home... Jenny married a Navy man, my much-loved great uncle Marcus, or 'Marky', and Nanna found her John Crawford, known as Jack,(with whom she would have four children), who was to lose his right leg early - Below the knee - In an accident at the Pit, when he was sitting beside the line, taking his lunch, or bait, and a coal-laden trolley ran over him...
And, are we ever satisfied with our lot in life, with who we are in our skins, I wonder...
Perhaps it's the (probably romanticized, non?!) gypsy in my soul!
What think you, my bloggy mistrals?
