As a wise jingle to an 80’s multi-cultured once said; “Now the world don’t move to the beat of just one drum. What might be right for some, may not be right some.” The strange televised tale of an old, balding white man in knitwear taking guardianship of two small black boys may not seem like the inspiration of a drifting thought process, but my thoughts have been born from stranger things….
Sitting in the middle carriage, of my usual purple and blue work bound tube on wheels, the carriage just down from the toilet, my eyes started to drift around the carriage, just before they drifted off to sleep. It might have been the residual effects of the red wine the night before, or it might even have been the industrial strength toilet cleaner wafting down the carriage, I don’t know, but my thinking started to wander with my eyes.
Semi-conscious school children competed with overweight male commuters being strangled by their stiff, polyester ties for the most likely to to themselves. Half of the female contingent of the carriage, jabbed, pouted and gurned whilst at their heads whilst, they finished their morning’s war paint, fully aware of the other half of the women staring at them with contempt for having the temerity and sheer vulgarity to being doing this in public. As my eyes slowly closed shut to the aggravated carriage of mutual contempt, by mind melted away to another place, a different place, a happier place. And this is where “Different Strokes” comes in to the equation.
My happy place varies from moment to moment and probably dependent on what I’ve eaten or drunk the night before and possibly by what music is snaking in to my unconscious through my headphones. This morning, this chilled morning I think the weekend’s ingestions had finally caught up with me. Red wine, curry and all mixed up with a healthy does of Metallica, Rancid, Jimmy Eat World and The Chemical Brothers transported me to a multi-coloured swagger of a happy place of distorted faces, bodies and colours. As I drooled, twitched and snorted, my happy place may not have been the same beat as yours, but it was a damn fine beat for me.
Whatchoo talkin’ ’bout Willis?