Sweet Little Mystery

Inside my head I am in my twenties, sometimes in my late teens. On Friday night when we went to the concert I was in my mid twenties, living in my very grotty flat in London with M in the nest that was our bedroom (the flat being so small and grungy that neither my flatmate nor I made any attempt to do anything with the cupboard that passed for the living room and our bedrooms became our "worlds"). Listening to John Martyn sing his beautiful haunting lyrics was like watching those years play before me. Could it really have been twenty years ago? Looking at the faces of the people sitting around me, I could see the same thing was happening for them. So I sat there listening and gazing - gazing at a much changed John Martyn in front of me and the people around. We had all grown, time had passed, the years had brought experiences, new life, changes and perhaps a little wisdom, but what hadn't changed was the beauty of his music and the tenderness of his voice.



Whilst it is not too good a thing to dwell in the past for too long (and Mr Ragged Roses has reminded me that I am in danger of becoming too nostalgic as the days pass) I can't help but treasure moments like these, when the past and present entangle. On Saturday night I was in the kitchen making a pudding. Early evening, a bleak day demanding sweet sugary treats. As I stirred the grated apple, sugar and cinnamon, it's spicy sweet fragrance transported me immediately back to my mother's kitchen, I was there standing beside her eagerly waiting her wonderful cooking. Later on when we sat and ate our pudding I could see the same look on my daughters' faces and I wondered if in years to come the same will happen for them. What will be their soundtracks I wonder?