Nothing
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 thin...