Traversing, as one does, the airwaves one has come across tonight this total reported piffle from John Lennon and George Harrison regarding the death, this day forty years ago, of their manager Brian Epstein:
Before leaving Bangor, John Lennon said: "Our meditations have given us confidence to stand such a shock."
George Harrison said: "There is no such thing as death, only in the physical sense. We know he is ok now. He will return because he was striving for happiness and desired bliss so much."
One has, funnily enough, been attending today a local fancy-dress 'Sixties' party. Yet one more hippie type figure seeming out of the question, one posed as a French existentialist revolutionary circa. Paris 1968, replete with texts from Sartre, Camus and Genet. ("Jes Suis Marxiste, Tendance Groucho" and all that jazz.)
A splendid festive occasion, but what did we all grumpy elders do but anguish over the current state of this country and to possibly allow that maybe the Sixties were a better time than now?
Reading, though, the above twaddle, one must question just how fanciful and false nostalgia can be.
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