Days merge into each other, there is no beginning, there is no end, it’s a continuum, when I let go it’s hard to tell what is real, what is important, there is no sense of space or belonging, just the need to go on, to not let go. There is no way to bring together and make sense of these days, to see or to explain what binds them together.

There is our event in London with lots of really interested and enthusiastic, but also slightly cynical with the I’ve seen all this before and I already know what’s going to happen next attitude who are in several places all at the same time on their phones, emails, social networks, and in this physical space and reality that becomes less and less important.

Combine all this with a lack of sleep, the phone call to Hamburg and the daily news about how Pádraig is doing, the occasional laissez-faire-overworked-I-can’t-do-more-than-I’m-doing-and-how-would-I-know attitude of people looking after Pádraig, the desperate hope for a miracle, the deep sadness, the realisation that the world keeps spinning ’round, man keeps making plans, God keeps smiling, while you walk down right deep deep down into the centre of the earth on Euston’s Northern Line, one set of steps after another, until you hit rock bottom, literally, then you think you are living the song you’re listening to about feeling like a rolling stone, ready to make a deal.

Pádraig had a good day today and was visibly delighted to see Maria coming over for a week to visit him. His doctor is going to decrease the medication he’s getting to lower the probability of seizures tomorrow. Once he’s sure that Pádraig’s infection is completely gone he’ll also change the catheter again and see whether a less invasive method can be used, hopefully lowering the possibility of infections.

imagesThere must have been something in the 1960s in Germany that made people think that 17 was the magic age. I’ve no idea why 17… but there is no doubt that these songs today would border on committing a criminal offence. Here is a selection. The set is worth watching as are the songs worth listening – if for no other reason as for the memories long gone or, if not because of the memories, then just out of curiosity for the unbelievable music of those years…

Udo Jürgens, 17 Jahr blondes Haar
Chris Roberts, Du kannst nicht immer 17 sein
Ivo Robin, Mit 17 fängt das Leben erst an (1961)