On Baker Street

I've been spending some time on Baker Street. And every time I'm there, I hear Gerry Rafferty and that saxophone and some of the most poignant lyrics ever written.

I'm just in the process of sending a copy of Baker Street to someone who hasn't heard it... but needs to... because the song is about them... just as much as it is about most of us...

The reason for this post is that while checking out Baker Street on websites I came across a discussion that was quite amazing... no trolls, no unpleasantness... just post after post of warm emotion for Baker Street and for its significance in people's lives... and for the late Gerry Rafferty.

Baker Street meant so much to so many people, it seems. And what is that meaning? If you don't know, you'd better give it a listen... It was written for you too.

Beardness Weirdness

Policemen have been looking younger for quite some time. In fact, it wasn't long ago that I found myself asking a member of the constabulary who was giving me a severe ticking off for parking inappropriately: "Just how old are you?"

He wouldn't give me his age, but I can tell you that he didn't like the question very much, and brought our conversation to an end with a "Well, make sure you don't do it again".

But I was looking out the train window the other day as we pulled into Clapham Junction and saw a child with a beard. No, seriously, a young boy, about 5ft tall maximum, with a proper black beard.

So are beards – like policemen – getting younger? One thing's for sure... I'm definitely getting old.