Showing my age

Last Friday the old feller and meself went to see one of our favourite tribute bands- Limehouse Lizzy,   a fantastic group who are very proud to keep alive the music of Thin Lizzy  and Phil Lynott. The venue was the fabulous Assembly in Leamington Spa- well worth a visit if you are in the area!  As usual the crowd was predominately male and aged around 45-50; still rockers at heart and a bit nostalgic for the 1970s and the bands of their youth.  I swear as one bloke walked by, I actually got a whiff of Brut- he must have ‘splashed it all over’! ( ask your mum, kids) wpid-lizzy-20130927_211055.jpg

As I was enjoying the set,  I too became a bit nostalgic.  I felt a pang, a hankering, if you will.  Kids, chaps, or those of a nervous disposition, you may want to look away now. Ladies,  I have to confess a secret passion for long skinny legs and snaky hips in a pair of leather trousers.   A well filled, shiny black upholstered arse.  I’m thinking Elvis in the ’68 comeback special.   I’m thinking long hair, naked torso, scruffy, down and dirty, sexy bad boy rocker.   Do I hear a whoop?   Just me, then.

In my defence, my formative years were the 1970s,   I went from Donny Osmond at junior school, through T Rex, Queen all the way to punk rock and beyond.  We lusted after long-haired guys that our dads wouldn’t approve of.  For a while, I worshipped Bob Geldof and the Boomtown Rats.   I remember once, he chewed gum on Top of the Pops. Gum!  My dad was appalled.    When I was eighteen, I dated a guy in a local rock band-  he was the lead singer, in fact.  *high-fives self*  In reality he worked in an office and was the nicest person you could imagine and yes, my dad liked him.  His stage outfit was a blood stained butcher’s apron over a pair of tight jeans which he looked terrific in.
The male rear view can be a wonderful thing when hugged by blue denim;  when you can count a guy’s loose change in his pocket.   I feel very sorry for teenage girls right now; they are denied this simple pleasure because young men wear those horrible, unflattering  baggy-crotched  trousers that show their pants.  Nobody looks good in them. NOBODY.  Really.

Back at the gig,  I am clearly showing my age ( and feeling it).   The lead guitarists both have long flowing locks that they toss around wildly as they posture and play to the crowd.  For a moment,  I cannot help but worry that they might get their hair caught up in their equipment- this would not have crossed my mind a few years ago!!     It was a great evening out and always a pleasure to hear the old songs again.    Me and my old rocker grab a takeaway latte after the show -how rock’n’roll are we?- and look forward to the next time that the Boys are Back in Town- d’you see what i did there?

Here’s a link to the late great Gary Moore and Phil Lynott (complete with leather trousers) with a  live version of ‘Parisian Walkways’– Enjoy! 

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About downmyfront

Interested in cooking and eating, books, theatre, crafts, thrift and upcycling.
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