Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Big Mama Thornton and Alfie:
‘Hound Dog’ stuck on a loop in my head the other day, playing with Alfie – my Mum’s Cocker Spaniel. Turns out that although Elvis has the best known version, the song was first recorded by one Big Mama Thornton. I realise it was stars like Elvis that took the African-American blues to the cracker masses but until recently getting into Lightin’ Hopkins was as far as I crawled out of my lily-white honky box; and I’ve been missing out on so much.
I shot a lot of video of Alfie, because he’s as adorable as he is mental, and this was the first time I could be around him for any amount of time (anti-histamines – who knew?); so the video that follows these words is him and the wonderful Big Mama Thornton. I nearly used ACDC’s ‘Giving the Dog a Bone’ but it somehow seemed inappropriate to have my Mum’s dog with a rock anthem about blow-jobs. Anyway, if you like the tune, check out the album ‘The Original Hound Dog’ – the one with The Muddy Waters Blues Band is also fantastic. If such is your bag.
Well, well; 2013 is here, all shiny and mysterious. I hope you all had a nice Yuletide and recharged your batteries in as pleasant a manner possible. Thank you to those who bought copies of my books – I can only imagine the look on (insert name here)’s face when they tore open that wrapping paper in front of the Christmas Tree. Meanwhile, I was down south visiting the family and my girlfriend broke up with me via e-mail; as harsh as that may seem, I was glad to be in the good company of family and pets.
I’m reminded of a time I was living with an old friend whose two young daughters would come visit at weekends; it was a time I was recovering from knee surgery, depressed and crippled by the prozac the doctor said would make me better. Those kids were awesome – they didn’t care that I hadn’t left the house in days because I feared that peoples eyes would eat me – they’d run in screaming, happy and wanting to play. And what can you do but help them plaster your room with post-it notes and swing them around by the ankles?
Christ, do I sound broody? Newly single, making a big deal out of animals and children. Can men get broody? Well, it’s not like my ovaries have shrivelled up yet – there’s life in this old gal yet.
You might think I imagine a dog video to be the antithesis of the video I made for my ex’s cat; perhaps that I hope to cancel one out with the other like when the Ghostbusters crossed the streams and sent Gozer the Gozarian screaming back to its own realm; and if you think that then you’re as nuts as I am.
Poppy remains a beautiful feline specimen (Also, my aunt’s cat is absolutely gorgeous and slept on me one night; I couldn’t move for fear of disturbing her; better night’s sleep than some); and continuing on, wherever I spot a nice creature I will record its behaviour for posterity. And I’m sure a collective psychic shiver just went down the spine of every woman in Edinburgh.
Just kidding; I’ve got a date tomorrow. Time to put some clothes on and leave the house, I suppose.
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