My next essay was going to be about Terry Parker, another one of the friends who is now, sadly, a stiff. Having put together the first volume of photographs of my mate Slim Rhodes (stiff) complete with commentary, my younger daughter, Rosalind, read through it and found the bit about Terry Parker, who was a musician, layabout and bassist with a band called Stonehouse. They hailed from Plymouth and had the briefest of brief careers in about 1970-72 (one release, Stonehouse). Rosalind is a fifteen year-old rock music devotee, and googled the record. She found a small group of Stonehouse devotees, one of whom commented that there was a nearly-complete absence of biographical material for Pete Spearing (lead), Terry Parker (bass), Ian Snow (drums) and Jim Smith (vocals).
Now, I was going to remedy this with a few notes about Terry and our existence in South London in the 70’s, plus the odd picture or two which one of us turned up. This will have to wait.
First, there will be an extended interruption while I set down a few things, the like of which most people believe to be the main purpose of blogging: that is, to set down a cogently argued case for the criticism of modern life, or as Socrates would have put it, a bloody good old rant.
Elder daughter Alexandra came back from working as a housekeeper in a hotel in France for four months at the end of April. After working abroad, she had to return to the regime of carrying her passport around with her, simply to be able to go to the pub and buy a drink.
Now, to be obliged to do this is oppressive and stupid, as I shall argue………..later (time for me to go to the pub)
