Life Stories

Always something there to remind me…

Do you ever wake up with a song playing in your head?

With lyrics by Burt Bacharach and Hal David, this one, I discovered, was originally recorded as a demo for Dionne Warwick in 1963, and first charted for Lou Johnson in the summer of 1964.

And then, in the early eighties, just as I was entering my thirties, and tasting delicious, exacting motherhood for the first time, the song was revived by Naked Eyes, a British band whose video is on Youtube:

Always something there…

Always Something There to Remind Me

The Lyrics

I walk along the city streets you used to walk along with me
And every step I take reminds me of just how we used to be
Well, how can I forget you, girl?
When there is always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me

As shadows fall, I pass a small cafe where we would dance at night
And I can’t help recalling how it felt to kiss and hold you tight
Well, how can I forget you, girl?
When there is always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love her, and I will never be free
You’ll always be a part of me
Oh whoa ooh whoa ooh whoa oh

If you should find you miss the sweet and tender love we used to share
Just go back to the places where we used to go and I’ll be there
Well, how can I forget you, girl?
When there is always something there to remind me
Always something there to remind me
I was born to love her, and I will never be free
You’ll always be a part of me
‘Cause there is always something there to remind me

Always something there to remind me

Wo, wo, wo, oh, oh, oh!

Other singers of the song include Sandy Shaw 1964; R.B. Greaves 1969; the Hippos 1999; All Saints 1998; and the crooner, Richard Poon in the 2000s. In fact, this song has been recorded widely over time and space. Eddy Mitchell, (acca Claude Moine) a French singer of Rock, R&B, and country music sang the song in French (Toujours un coin qui me rappelle) to great acclaim in 1965.

In the second half of the 1960s, I was living in France. There I was enchanted by the powerful and moving songs of George Brassens, Edie Piaff and Jacques Brel.

Ne me quitte pas…

What about you, does this ever happen to you? See my post on Cargoes on this site at http://anneskyvington.com.au/a-funny-thing-happened/

It’s about stuff surging up from the depths of the Unconscious without your doing?

September 19, 2019 2 comments

Life Stories Memoir Writing

A Well-Loved Pet

Zac followed my partner along the footpath near our home, one afternoon when Mark was walking towards the gym. An Aussie Terrier, starving and weary. These gym sessions were daily events and sacrosanct at the time. This day, instead of continuing on his route, Mark bent down, picked the skinny runt up in his arms and proceeded to knock on dozens of doors up and down the hills, asking: “Does anyone know this dog?” No-one answered in the affirmative. We rang several vets in the area, looked out for ads and put up notices; nothing. zac-thirteen

Once the two children saw him, his white coat shot over by a splattering of deep grey and a dash of beige round the eyes and ears, they fell in love. Fast. Two weeks later and our daughter had fallen so madly in love with the little mutt, it started to look as if he was ours to keep. And we had finally settled on ‘Zac’ for a name.

Like many adoptive parents, we dreaded, during the days that followed, the knock on the door, or the phone call that might announce the arrival of the ‘natural’ parent or parents of this undernourished, but otherwise perfect, little fellow. Luckily that never happened, and he fitted into our household like another family member.

He was the gentlest little creature. He put on weight quickly so that I didn’t have to carry him on long walks anymore. He loved chasing the ball that my husband threw almost to the moon.

December 7, 2016 0 comment

Life Stories Travel Writing

Adriatic Romance … Rijeka to Titograd

My Travel Journal through Italy and Yugoslavia in 1968

My journey from Paris towards the Ukraine in Russia continues … with entry into our first Communist country, Yugoslavia, and the drive along the spectacular coastline there. Once again we are delayed by car troubles, this time a forced stopover at Camp Borik, a beautiful lakeside camping ground near Zadar, where we meet up with young Italian men, who take us dancing and romancing. Pulling ourselves away, with regret, we continue ever onwards towards Dubrovnik, Titograd and Kaselin.

The 4^th Day, July: The Adriatic Coastline in Italy

The romance of the Adriatic coastline! It had captivated us from Venice onwards. We’d made good headway and reached Trieste—beautiful Trieste—on the rocky Adriatic seashore at 8.30. The sun had gone down; the sky was pink. We passed along the cliff road leading around the city. The youth hostel was marvellous, like a palace set in trees at the foot of the hills, overlooking the sea. We were given the last beds. I took a cold shower and changed into my one sun dress. We rushed out with little over half-an-hour to eat and return to the hostel. Luckily, we found a tiny bar, where we were served pizza and gelato very quickly and sat there, marvelling at this beautiful Italian environment. We recognized other Australian voices as we went in to sleep at the hostel. Liz moved out on to the balcony. We slept well.

August 29, 2016 1 comment

Life Stories Memoir Writing

Memoir Writing

According to American author Marian Roach Smith’s definition, “Memoirs are selections from your life story, shaped by theme, driven by a few burning questions. So the question the reader brings is: why these bits of your life? The answer to that question will lead you to your opening.”

See her website for more gems about this genre that I love to read and strive to write well.

One part of my life that I enjoyed was the post-adolescent period of adventure, spent in Paris, France, and travelling throughout Europe and into the USSR during the “Cold War” years. However it was the Inner Journeying that I had to set out on after I returned to Australia that forms the important part of my memoir. I now wonder if these two journeys are too much to include in one memoir?

August 23, 2016 2 comments

Life Stories Memoir

River Girl: An Early Chapter of my Memoir in Progress

River Girl

I lived at a place called Waterview, a lush, fertile valley, with a river swollen like a pregnant woman coursing through it. Despite the name ‘Waterview’, the Clarence River was hidden from sight at the point where I was brought up, because of the lie of the land. The irony was that there was water all around us, and yet none to be seen from our place. You could sense the water, though, caught in the humid air that wrapped itself around our bodies, buried deep inside the rich alluvial soil, and trapped inside plants and bulging green tree frogs.

January 23, 2016 12 comments