The blackbird that couldn’t speak: Part 1

imagesWP2K8M5WAn abiding memory of mine has been the young farmers’ dance that I attended one Saturday night back in 1972.

These dances were held either in a barn, a town hall or more select venue. On this occasion the dance was held in the latter specifically the Trossachs Hotel by Loch Achray. The music provided either by a fiddle, ceilidh or rock band or simply by a DJ. On this occasion it was provided by the latter.

At the time I was a shy 17 year old who found it very hard to approach a girl for a dance never mind chat her up. I was as sophisticated as the dopey half of Laurel and Hardy. When the sensual opening riff of the first rock record called us out to the dance floor I spotted a girl about my age standing alone. My instincts told me that she was as shy as me though not dopey a feeling that gave me the confidence to ask her to dance. Imagine my delight when my instincts were confirmed and she accepted. From the moment of that riff we danced and chatted all night, neither of us attempting to leave the floor in between records. There was obvious chemistry between us – we were both shy, liked the same music, fashions – she was dressed elegantly in the Laura Ashley style; me less so but smart casual in black blazer, checked shirt, Levis and Doc Marten boots – films and so on. She told me that she lived on a farm in a village near Stirling. I was floating on air. The night flew by all too quick. Before we knew it the DJ announced the last record, the slow song, which signalled to us lads that it was now or never where asking our partner for a date was concerned. The song was Cat Stevens’ delicious rendering of Morning Has Broken.


1 Comment

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One response to “The blackbird that couldn’t speak: Part 1

  1. Can’t wait for part 2 – such a romantic tale 🙂


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