Its hot here in the UK today, sweltering! I was just packing up at work and they were playing Hotel California by the Eagles on the radio, I just caught the line “She got lots of pretty pretty boys, she calls friends” and it made me chuckle, what does it all mean?
I love the guitar solo on the end, but the lyrics, is it about a whore house? Or just about losing it in general?
You know, I once looked up the UK number one song for the week of my birth – House of the Rising Son by the Animals!
I got a better story than that tho, when I was a kid in school, (I’m talking about little school, which means up to 11 years of age) we went to the local village school, and as it was only a mile to walk, we were able to go home for lunch. Actually, I was one of the few who did this in my year group, most kids had school diners, and playtime, I guess most peoples mums worked, but mine was home, so I’d just go home and eat there. By the end of each day, I’d wind up having walked 4 miles. Mum was a tough Scot, so I was obliged to see myself as a tough Scot too!
I wore short trousers – as in shorts. All the other kids, wore long trousers by the time they were out of primary level, which would have been about 7 or 8 years or whatever, but me, I was’nae fussed about yer long trousers, they’re for southern wimps, and I was from tougher stock that I’ll tell ye!
Walking home in my shorts (kilt I mean) walking 4 miles a day, with my pipes over my braw shoulder, even if it was snowing or freezing around the knees, it did’nae bother me, on account of the glens and the heather, & ma wee lassie waiting for me to come back after diner, with ma bagpipes blaring. My girlfriend at the time was the only girl in the school with a Scottish mother, so of course she understood the situation and admired my heroic struggle – both of us descended from the Black Watch is pretty hard core FYI.
So anyhow, every day around 12pm, all the kids would rush out into the playground screaming and playing or going to get their school diners or whatever else they did, and you’d hear the wailing sound of bagpipes starting up as I set off on my heroic journey home for lunch – I wasn’t wearing shorts ye fool – its a kilt! Call it what it is! Ma Dirk tucked into ma wee sock, to get ma’ oats and offal which I’d keep warm in ma wee sporran!
Years later mum told me she sent us to school in shorts, cos she thought otherwise I might get Rickets! Thats more something from the 1930’s + 40’s than the 60’s + 70’s