Well, it is a Tuesday night and I have got nothing to blog about... diddly squat, nought, zero, zilch or as we say in Yorkshire - nowt. I suspect that COVID has left me with a legacy of long-lasting laziness so instead of blogging properly I will leave you with a song from The Doors that I first encountered in 1969:-
Jim Morrison died in Paris on July 3rd 1971 when he was just twenty seven years old. He died in his then girlfriend's rented apartment and the circumstances were mysterious but it is almost certain that heroin played a part. It was fifty three years ago. The French authorities did not perform an autopsy and their investigations were rather superficial.
Of this song, Morrison said: "Every time I hear that song, it means something else to me. I really don't know what I was trying to say. It just started out as a simple goodbye song ... Probably just to a girl, but I could see how it could be goodbye to a kind of childhood. I really don't know. I think it's sufficiently complex and universal in its imagery that it could be almost anything you want it to be."
If he had lived, he would have been 81 years old last December.
Jim Morrison's grave in Paris
This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end of our elaborate plans
The end of everything that stands
The end
No safety or surprise
The end
I'll never look into your eyes again
from Yorkshire Pudding https://ift.tt/kavgiAx