Senior Citizens Rave in Southampton

fatboy slim

Perhaps because Southampton is a student City with two Universities and a few colleges, that there is so much going on for young people in my home town. So, if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em — We oldies end up going to raves, where we are considered “cute”. We can boogie-down to all the revivals from the 40s to the 90s — we can do the dances and these youngsters want us to teach them. “Ahh! I hope I am like you when I am old” they often say, as they ask if they can be my friend on Facebook? And selfie me.
The first (of hopefully many) Bestival Common People Festival, took place on Southampton Common in May this year. The two stars that drew the biggest crowds were “getting on” a bit to say the least: Fatboy Slim (pictured above and left) must be one of England’s best-known disc jockeys. He started out with the Ibiza sound in the 1970s and thirty years later he is still going strong at aged 51. Then there is 67 year-old Grace Jones.  Appearing naked except for a basque and thong but with quite a bit of body paint. She could still walk on the catwalfatboy slim 2k in high heels and look like any supermodel. Sometimes she wore a body stocking. Her usual party piece is doing a 15 minute extended version of one of her songs while she hoopla-hoops. I have seen her do this with Pavarotti and for The Queen’s Diamond Jubilee. Grace Jones 3She changed her costume for each number and had the energy of a zebra (which one of her costumes resembled. See left). The crowd loved them – Just as they loved Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers and Tony Benn at Glastonbury. Some of the young crowd assumed that we too must be ancient stars, being elderly, and my husband was asked for his autograph. Bob Dylan is playing here in the autumn and to quote his lyrics: “May you stay, forever young”.

Here is also a popular YouTube video of an old lady (not me but it easily could be) dancing in a Southampton nightclub: https://youtu.be/DlQvyD6ck8k

Something about May Hill

Walking the wide, grassy ride that inclines so disconcertingly slowly up May Hill,

Mushrooms tightened their plate-sized parasols against the mist.

Fruits in abundance hardened themselves on to branches:

Leafless crab-apples, damsons, red rowans, black bramble-berries

And uncultivated chestnuts which spike out green armour.

Under the tall fir-copsed brow lay a docile herd of Belted Galloways,

Their marbled meat spread about in a Turkish bath of a fog.

Coal-black, their fluffy white belts resemble steam-room towels.

Water pearls weave their way through laced spiderless webs

No view today of any one of the twelve counties.

Still and silent.

Straining, I can hear echoes of bird twitters chorused by traffic.

And see dried, feathered grasses twitching nervously.

Everything seems to wait, wait.

Wait for what?

Something, is in the air.

Something, is about to change.

Southampton Old Lady wrote this on September 3rd,  2014