Machmallauter: Boney M

I was always a fan of of Boney M.  I had no choice really.  When I was pads brat living in Wolfenbüttel, Germany 1975-78, their music was on BFBS all the time.  Every hour.  Every day.

This was my favourite Boney M number: 137, to be exact.  Psalm 137, otherwise known as…

By the Rivers of Babylon

Have a psalmodic day, won’t you!

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Machmallauter: Under Your Thumb

Godley and Creme (formerly members of 10CC) wrote a haunting ballad in 1981.  Some hits become golden oldies within days, eg Come on Eileen, Golden Brown.  Much to my disappointment, this number I have never heard on the radio since 1981.  Gone without a trace.  A real shame.

Have a golden day, won’t you!

Machmallauter!

I have catholic (little C – take note) musical tastes – everything from classical like Mozart to AC/DC to ZZ Top.  This morning I heard an old, recycled joke.

Q. What’s the difference between 1990s USA and today’s USA?

A. 1990’s USA had Bill Clinton, Bob Hope, Johnny Cash and Stevie Wonder.  Now it has Donald Trump, no cash, no hope, and no flippin’ wonder!

Then I looked up Johnny Cash’s biggest hits, one of which is below.  Stick your big headphones on and listen to this ‘un!

Have a Cash-rich day, won’t you!

Michael, they have taken you away

Michael K was buried yesterday morning.  He was 50 years old.  Three of his children attended his funeral, together with about fifteen other people who knew him, including his first wife.  I’m not sure if he had other children, but that was all that turned up to a spartan chapel in a local cemetery.

I would like to be glib and say, “It was a nice funeral.”

In a way it was.  The flowers on and around his coffin were beautiful.  The mourners, especially the British – for he had many British friends – were warm and supportive towards the members of his family, saying kind words and offering sympathy and hugs.  We sang one of his favourite hymns well: There Is A Hope.

But it wasn’t a nice “he had a good innings” funeral.  He died too early, alone and lonely and lacking love and hope.  His partner had died slowly and painfully three years ago.  He had been in and out of jobs since then.  When he was working, he was doing shift work and could not get to church to be with his church family.  As for his “blood family” to quote the Prince of Wales’ brother, I think his relationship with them over the years had been strained.

Michael was what we Brits call “a bit Marmite.”  You either loved him or hated him.  I myself enjoyed his company, as long it did not involve endless hours spent on a summer afternoon in an Altstadt Irish pub.  Michael, a German, knew the words to a vast array of Irish rebel songs.  Sometimes he’d tweak the lyrics.  Sean South of Garryowen became Sean South of Gerresheim.  He and I used to sing these songs every now and again together…  All his years working in IT in Scotland and Eire had not gone to waste.  I guess his local pub in Scotland must have been full of Celtic fans, judging by his repertoire.  Oh yes, he also had an encyclopaedic knowledge of East Germany jokes.

We got on well.

We often used to sing Fields of Athenry while strolling through the local park.

Michael, they have taken you away.  May you rest in peace.

Have a peaceful day, wont you!

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

The title is a Latin phrase found in the work of the Roman poet Juvenal from his Satires (Satire VI, lines 347–8). It is literally translated as “Who will guard the guards themselves?”

The question in my head at the moment is:

Who cares for the carers?

Sometimes, and I’ll be frank here, I think the answer is: no-one?  I’m a member of my local church council.  I find it rewarding, and I like to serve man and God by doing all this work, whether sorting the church website or hoovering church carpets when the cleaner is on holiday, or spending hours sitting with fellow members of the congregation, listening to them telling me their problems when they are feeling down.

Yet what happens when the “care bear” and the church leader needs a listening ear?  Where are the friends who were there when they were feeling down?

They are either:

  • Not there at al: radio silence
  • They are telling you about what a great time they are having on on their hols
  • Moaning about their latest “playground fight” with a fellow member of congregation, followed by a huge long “mea culpa” session

This weekend got too much for me.  I ended up at Schatz’, lying on the bed and listening to good mood music such as Rule Britannia.  Finally, I decided to stick my shoes on and tell Schatz I was going out for a quick walk to the local bridge over the Autobahn and back to clear my head.  Maybe she thought I was planning to jump off the said bridge.  I wasn’t.  Suicide is Painless, goes the theme tune to M*A*SH.  But I wasn’t aiming to find out.  Instead Schatz suggested we head the local restaurant and have a few drinks.  We did that.  Five glasses of Hugo and a good rant about the Ted Stryker fan club later, and I was feeling better.  We duly waddled back to Schatz’ house, blood pressure somewhat lower than before.

Yamas!

Moral of this story:

  1. Support your local gunfighter.  Support your local church council member.
  2. No matter how down you are feeling, no better how cheery your friend is feeling, ask your friend once in a while how he/she is, especially when you have been told bluntly that said friend is feeling down.

Danke nochmal, Schatz, für deine Geduld!

Have a supportive day, won’t you!