musings, Uncategorized

Good Ol’ David Bowie



As with pretty much anything Bowie related, I, along with everyone else, think it is speaking only to me and I am the only one with the memories, the emotions, and the connection.


A case in point is this great cartoon that has been circulating for a couple of weeks.

Undoubtedly, it has touched loads and loads of people.

But I still think, wow it is Charlie Brown and Bowie. My two youthful obsessions. Together. It is speaking just to me.

To be fair, I had discussed this juxtaposition with my buddy Jocelyn at Union Chapel.

Before we saw baleful Charlie Brown on FB.

It had struck me how bizarre it was that in my early teens while I was going to gigs, fantasising about David Bowie falling in love with me on Golders Green Road, and generally chasing boys, I was also completely immersed in the world of Peanuts.

I had one T-shirt that I wore endlessly that said,

“We all need someone to kiss away our tears “

It was blue. I wore it with myIMG_3108.jpg rainbow patterned flares and matching jacket.

I don’t know what happened to it but I did find something close in last years Uniqlo collection which I excitedly bought for my husband. And then realised it was nothing like it and he doesn’t have the right trousers to wear with it.

My grandmother did not teach me to suck eggs. But someone did.
isographpencloseup_1_.jpg.pagespeed.ce.H_E1jmkPnS.jpgAnd I spent many a happy hour carefully blowing out the yolk and white, and then meticulously decorating the shell with tiny drawings of Snoopy in various poses. I used a Rotring pen for the fine lines, and brown ink, which was kind of cool. Then varnish. I didn’t just specialize in dairy products, I also covered sheets of A4 and miscellaneous bits of card to order.


I had numerous Peanuts IMG_3106.jpgpaperbacks, and the odd special hardback compilation.

Hard to imagine in the current world of Merch, but anything other than books was ridiculously hard to come by. Once on a holiday in Vienna (where I incidentally contracted shingles after a long walk with a pug dog and a gay friend of my Great Aunt Mitzi) we spied some Snoopy wrapping paper in a shop window. I was so excited but the shop was closed, we were leaving the next day and there was no chance for retail on a Sunday.

I think that Bill or Heinz or Mitzi or someone did eventually post a sheet to me, but sadly I can’t recall at all what I did with it.

Greeting cards were only just starting to get interesting an entertaining.It took decades for the mildly porny and bad taste hilarious personalized collections to hit the shelves.

Back then I took great pride in choosing and sending classy and appropriate cards to my friends and family.

But I got waylaid when Peanuts Cards could be found in WH Smiths, and could not stop buying funny little strips for my pals, to the point of dullness and predictability.

Meanwhile, occupying the same teenage headspace was David Bowie.

000925-Bowie-David-Starman-Top-Of-The-Pops-1972.jpgI was buying all the albums and singles, and doing all the tours – Ziggy Stardust, Diamond Dogs, Station to Station.

I was creating scrapbooks of Bowie Cuttings from NME and Sounds and probably Jackie, even buying the newly released Smash Hits just for the pages of lyrics to cut and paste.

I did an art project at school where we were briefed to use papier-mache and painting – mixed media! Mine was a concert hall with the audience heads made of newspaper and paste, and in the centre, a very detailed glam rock band headed by a beautiful skinny man with orange hair. It incidentally sounds much better than it was.

Time moved on. I expanded my gigging chops. Lou Reed, Sparks, Specials, Ian Dury, Clash, Small Faces, The Tubes, Roxy Music, Elvis Costello and many many more through the decades.

There were other cartoons and comic strips too. Archie, Betty and Veronica, Caspar the Friendly Ghost, Top Cat, Wacky Races, and eventually the Simpsons. IMG_3103.jpg

But nothing has ever really touched me and stayed true like the creations of Charles M Schultz and David Bowie.



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