I’ve been seeing folks doing calls for – and offering up – playlists to offer some kind of respite from The Lockdown that’s gone into effect here in the nations of Britain and Northern Ireland. So, what better time to belatedly offer up some of my favourite tracks from the happy days of 2019?
As it happens, the apoplectic.me post of my favourite choonsof 2018 began by noting that it was the death of David Bowie that had heralded planet Earth’s one-way trip to hell in a hand basket.
So, join me, won’t you, on a trip down memory lane to when things hadn’t yet gotten entirely out of hand? Or if you don’t like wurdz, just hit up the Spotify playlist.
I can hardly believe that I’m returning to the subject of that strange racist guy across the Atlantic with the architecturally complicated hair and the reactionary opinions who’s poured into oddly ill-fitting clothes. But I suppose that it’s an endlessly interesting topic to me.
After last week’s Tangents, let’s get back on topic this week, shall we? Facebook has been reminding me this week of the vacation Mrs Stroke Bloke and I took in Thailand this time five years ago.
That was kind of the last hurrah for Ricky 1.0, before returning once again to the stresses – and fun – of my NYC life, and shortly thereafter, a massive haemorrhage stroke. I still picture the Maikhao Dream Resort when a guided meditation leads me to my happy place.
Now we’ve been married for as long as the three-and-a-half weeks I was in Brooklyn’s Methodist Hospital before my transfer to the Rusk Institute, I thought it might be time to scribble down some thoughts about what just happened – figure out what it was all about….
This weekend, Longsufferinggirlfriendoftheblogbeth and I staged a wee karaoke party to celebrate, among other things, the first anniversary of my fortieth birthday.
Hat tip to @Pab_Roberts for drawing my attention to the lovely fact that the word karaoke is a bimoraicclipped compound of the Japanese kara 空 “empty” and ōkesutora オーケストラ “orchestra”. We had great fun, and were glad that, that night, the clocks went back in Edinburgh (and the rest of Scotland and the other countries that comprise the islands known as Britain, and Ireland, too – Ed.).