The death of Davy Jones – lead singer of the Monkees was sad news to me this morning. As a young man I used to help out at an evening club for handicapped kids. There were those who would join in and those who were too nervous to dance and sing along. Two songs never failed to get them up. “Daydream Believer” and “I’m a Believer” conquered the inhibitions of the shyest kids.
Several years later I was a cop on the streets of South London. As a result of a traffic accident a short youngish guy with kind brown eyes found himself being interviewed by me. He was humble polite and charming. He told me about his work on American TV and his identity came to light. The traffic matter was fairly banal and in those days cops were not that fixated on motorists. I thanked him for for the music and he thanked me for my attention. There will be all manner of obituaries and the memories of showbiz stars in the media. I just wanted to say my own tribute. He was an absolute gentleman.
A letter arrived at the poet’s cave advising me that it was about time I started to think about sheltered housing for the elderly. I filed it next to two letters from the Health Service inviting me to provide samples of unspeakable body products so that I can be screened. A glance at the Newspaper revealed separate articles revealing the two greatest threats to these Sceptred Isles. 1) We are living too long and they cannot afford us. 2) We are still drinking and smoking too much and dying too young. Sometimes I just do not know what to do for the best.