I used to quite like those affable guys, the punks. I found that more often than not, for all their posturing and mock-aggression, the signed up members of this desperate attempt at forging a credible post-hippy subculture proved to be quite lovely and sensitive .. it was a cry for help – a rather poetical one at that – from the disenchanted poets of this most bleak of timeframes.
And, their reputed fearless love of causing offence was so often just … endearing, bless. A notable character in the small Dutch town of G.. where I grew up, a punk pur sang for sure, once got himself arrested by the Fuzz.
So far so good, and yes in itself this is not an unusual event in a proud punk’s career track. However, at that time the holding cell at the police station downtown was just a sort of outdoors cage or pen without any kind of roof or overhead covering.
As it happens, the way in which our friend the arrested punk used to fashion his fashionable mohawk involved the use of copious amounts of a type of thick green sugar soap. After all, a mohawk doesn’t just erect itself by being persuaded to do so.
You can sense where this is leading. While trying to keep his cool in the al fresco slammer, before long the heavens opened and our intrepid anti-hero & mohawk were reduced to a sorry slimey state of affairs, lacking in any kind of coolness by anyone’s standard.
But I digress. On the road again. When life gives you lemons, you may or may not make yourself a lemsip. Sometimes, though, you’re offered a nice small glass of Bollinger, the trick is 1. to detect the opportunity/miracle offered, 2. to have the wherewithal to jump on it and not let it pass, and finally 3. to give thanks.
While in no way able to finance such a sojourn myself at this present time, certain spiritual shenanigans have been deployed to send me to a telco event in Amsterdam.
Go figure. Or rather I won’t – just accept it with grace and try to pay it forward or share the good fortune with others wherever possible..