Ah, the summer of love. From this long distance it seems an age of rosy innocence. Then the 1967 timeline recollects the startling reality. What a year it was! To a soundtrack of the Beatles, a newsfeed of race riots across the US, death dropped daily on Vietnam.
Somehow I just lost fifty years. Where did it go? One bank holiday Monday half a century ago – dear god half a century! – I slipped into a home-made kaftan and hopped onto the back of Glynn’s Lambretta. And off we roared (well, ok, scootered) into an echoing hall of fame. The rest is history, it seems. Continue reading
A brief tribute to Brian Thompson, the man who had the vision and courage to create the legendary Barbecue 67 rock festival.
A tempting email. There’s a reunion in the Red Lion on Saturday, am I free to come? Not just any old reunion. And not just any old Red Lion. This is the reborn Red Lion with a Jimi Hendrix Room and a newly burnished old claim to fame. The reunion is for veterans of Barbecue 67. Do I have the nerve to go? My only claim to fame is turning down the chance to interview one of the world’s greatest rock stars.
A couple of comments on the blog have got me rummaging about in my dressing up box. Where on earth is that other shoe and whatever did I do with the kaftan I made for the gig of the 60s? The clothes are falling to pieces but the memories are made of stronger stuff. Continue reading