Best Years

I have never been much of a sit and listen to music person, in fact, I'm not really a sit down person at all, which perhaps explains the lack of the ability to simply chill, doing nothing, just soaking up lyrics, rhythm and tune. It's not that I don't like music. Get me to a music festival and I will embrace the sit down on the grass and listen thing in absolute contentment, no impatience or irritation at it being all I'm doing, because it's what I'm there to do. Listening is in itself a purpose.

I don't have music on as a soundtrack to my life either. It's not in the background while I wash up or while I iron or do anything around the house. I'm kind of happy in my own head with my own thoughts. I generally phase any background music out; bewildering for anyone who talks to me about the music playing on a car stereo or in the pub, bar or anywhere else. I won't be listening, I'll be inside my head, doing something completely different. It's the Quaker in me; I learned at a really quite young age how to be still and silent and sift through thoughts, allowing in threads of thinking and inspiration which don't always tangibly seem to stem from inside me, but of course must. It's this ability which makes me comfortable in my own company. A good thing really as it's going to be largely my own company I will be keeping for the next fortnight, and I'm OK with that, really OK with it.

There is, however, a selection of music in Shazza the campervan. Carefully chosen and the favourite travelling up to Scotland and today around the lanes as I made my way to Knochan Crag Car Park, where, by the way, Campervans are permitted to stay overnight, is Frank Turner. Frank is a singer I first heard maybe three or four years ago, with one of my friends who felt he is a true guru of rock & roll. To me, Frank is simply a more current Billy Bragg. Like Billy, if you listen critically you could also reach the conclusion he cannot sing. But check him out and see if you agree for yourself. Linking is too difficult on the move!!!

Anyway, today's Frank song I'm mulling over is him singing about the commonish experience of waking up, not knowing where you are, feeling slightly ashamed, wanting to be in clean clothes, elsewhere and with a charger for your phone. The theme running through the song is of waste, being halfway through the best years of his life.

The song is "The Real Damage" and try as I might this internet connection is having nothing of it when I try to connect to you tube.

“I started out with all my friends and ended up alone, you know I started out so happy now I'm hungover ….”

So, when do those best years start do you think, when do they finish, what are they, and crucially, when indeed are you halfway? I like to think mine started in my twenties and will cruise on until the end of my life. So, am I halfway yet I wonder ...