Saturday, 17 July 2010

Look at Me Leonard



Because of a few songs
Wherein I spoke of their mystery,
Women have been
Exceptionally kind
to my old age.
They make a secret place
In their busy lives
And they take me there.
They become naked
In their different ways
and they say,
"Look at me, Leonard
Look at me one last time."
Then they bend over the bed
And cover me up
Like a baby that is shivering.

Two years ago today, at the O2 in London, I first reaped the rewards for making pension contributions on behalf of an artist who has made my overwhelming crush on Donny Osmond at the age of seven seem utterly trivial. This man is my guru, a clever poet with unsurpassed wit and a gravelly voice that causes me to have tripled X rated thoughts even though he has reached the ripe old age of 75 (Sorry Mr Lovelygrey!).

The commonly held belief is that Leonard Cohen's music is ideal as the backing track when you decide to slit your wrists, but I heartily  disagree. As the time of this concert, in my pre-Citalopram days I was probably at my lowest ebb ever. Life could be pretty meaningless and I was pretty much convinced that I was responsible for all the world's ills including 9/11 and even the odd tsunami.

At this dark time, this night was a rare source of joy and so, for that  I heartily thank you Leonard. And as a mark of thanks,  if you're ever in Devon please view this post as an invitation to come to tea.

PS:  My little chef Louis is a fan too and makes great cake!

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