I kissed Margaret Benbow under the kitchen table when I was four. I held hands a lot with Sheila Stanworth when I was six, and Edith Johnson when I was seven. I panted for Melva Davies during my pirate years (eight and nine). In my early teens, I sighed for Maureen Jones (a real Hunter-Dunn), loved Alicia Ball, and then, at seventeen............. Well, better not to go there, and this song just about sums up what happened after that:
At seventeen, he falls in love quite madly
With eyes of the deepest blue.
At twenty-five, he get involved quite badly
With eyes of a diff'rent hue.
At thirty-five, you'll find him flirting sadly
With three or four or more.
But it's when he thinks he's past love
That he finds his last love -
And he loves her as he's never loved before.
2 comments:
Well Well Old Scrote. It is some 14 months on, however I hope you are still blogging sufficiently enthusiastically to receive this comment. This "love business" indeed. I have just finished watching an umpteen re-run of Inspector Morse and my current age and stage now coincides with that of the TV persona. He has just observed that "when he thinks he's past love is when he meets his last love" which chimed so loudly with me (a mere stripling of 61 - but suddenly and surprisingly deeply in love)that I had to pursue the quote through google.
thus discovering you. I'm not sure what I am going to do about this discovery yet. Rest assured however, that it pleases me.
Dear messenger below...you have just said exactly what I was going to say! I googled the poem I just heard on the Wolvercote tongue and found it here first. Its so pretty...and I think I understand it! This site looks interesting...
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