James Taylor ... a quick memory

 I want to get this down before I forget it; it might disappear forever.

Final year at Chelsea College of Technology ... a girl on my course, not wishing anything else, wondered whether I would like to hear an LP she had of James Taylor. I think she lived in a bedsit in Earls Court. (Addition 06/06/25 - I can now picture the street, Warwick Road). So it was that I first heard 'Sweet Baby James' and was immediately, and forever, taken by his music. Some time later I visited her and her boyfriend ... she was going to quit college. For the first time in my life I gave someone else advice. I said to her that she would pass the final exam units, that it was just a few months away (I think no more than three) and once she had the degree she could do what she liked but nobody could take that award away from her. I can't remember her name, I hope she lived the life she wanted despite those last few months ... she did get her degree.

This all came back tonight as BBC2 had a Carole King (with) James Taylor night and memories from so many years ago were awakened. 

February add-on: my memory has always had a mind of its own!!! As I guess with most people, memories spring themselves upon us at their own whim and now I think it important to note them down, if possible, as they provide 'nodes' in life which I can then fit other experiences to. (Curiously, just responding to Sue's piece in her blog 'Sue's news and views' mentioning wild boar sauce brought back the whole experience of a fortnight in Zivaco in '98, our second trip to Corsica - the first was to Lama). Corsican chestnut beer; ancient chestnut pollards in the woods; a helicopter ambulance recovering a woman who horse had thrown her while riding through the village; the house we stayed at, English owned by the widow of a ex-pat farmer who had emigrated in the 60's. Modern Corsican polyphony - our first hearing of I Muvrini, who we later saw twice in Lille and once in London ... more side roads of memory there! Going to a restaurant in a neighbouring village for a pizza and being told by the owner that we should have boar instead as it had just been prepared that day, but was not on the menu. He said it in a friendly but 'forcible' manner such that we knew we were in for a treat, and it was. When we wanted dessert, he wasn't letting go ... he had some cheese which he was sure we would like. We had it (all through our lives it's been very rare for us not to try new things) and it was good. The owner then came over with coffee and asked us about the cheese .We told him it was really nice. "Good" he said, "the man who made it is sitting there" ... at the next table!