I WILL PREVIVE [The Book Of Rocks] diary extract, 18 November 2016


“From one 1970s beauty to another – it’s all in the hair, the hair!!! I don’t remember Mum ever actively choosing music to listen to. She liked music; I just don’t think it was an essential for her. I do remember flicking through The Olds’ record collection though and seeing the face of Françoise Hardy on a few of the sleeves but I can’t recall ever hearing her songs. I must have done. I’m guessing.

For my stepmum at the tender age of sixteen, this singer symbolised the way into France, the start of a new chapter in her young life. She says that Tous Les Garçons, La Rose and Paris S’Eveille contributed to her haste to leave north-east Scotland (I’m sorry, I don’t know any of these songs so I can’t comment) and that Françoise and partner, Jacques Dutronc, WERE Paris as far as she was concerned! Needless to say she jumped in headfirst after her dream and lived there for 30 years. That’s the power of music.

The only song I know Françoise Hardy for is To The End (La Comedie), a collaboration with Blur, with a very So Frenchy So Chic flavour to it. I’ve been thinking a lot about beginnings, middles and ends lately, stuck here in this boob reconstruction rut, wondering how you really know when you’re at the start or finish of something. Is there a formal line in the sand that you consciously cross or are there a series of subtle, slow-burning changes that play out in a never-ending story? Good grief, I’ve gone all Françoise Hardy philosopher on a Friday. Someone slap me!

I need an early drink of The Weekend by Michael Gray to take me to the end of this rubbish week. That usually cheers me up. Bon weekend tout le monde.”


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November 18, 2016