I stride across the oval, cap at a jaunty angle, head held high and shoulders back heading to the pavilion for a welcoming salmon pate and cucumber sandwich and a cup of Earl Grey. My trusty willow under my armpit like a sergeant major’s baton, I breathe in the fresh aroma of newly cut grass and listen to the warm ripple of applause from the crowd as I make my way at the tea break, day two.

Well played that man ! Superb innings ! Bravo !

Openers Jackson and Fitzpatrick made a sterling start but it is me, debuting at number three that sits on one hundred not out. There have been some no balls, dropped catches and favourable umpiring decisions but I’m still battling and batting on…………..………………………….dream on John boy. You’ve never played a game of cricket in your life !

It is of course an allegory for the number of articles I have written for this excellent blog Onceuponatimeinthe70s including a few for Colin’s other project Loud Horizon.

It was mid February 2021 that Colin and Paul accepted my first written piece on my conversion from progressive rock devotee to funk and soul survivor and I haven’t stopped since. What have you unleashed guys ?

Looking back at my schooling in the seventies I’d probably concede that I was not the most confident of teenagers. Maybe a bit on the shy side but amiable enough if I found like-minded friends.

I didn’t excel at any one subject, music perhaps. I was distinctly average with pass marks barely in the sixties. I certainly didn’t feel comfortable in an exam situation. I did quite like English but was a bit stilted when it came to essay writing. I had one minor success with a stream of consciousness rambling but that was for a prelim so didn’t count for much.

The whole concept of sitting in a vast hall in neat rows of desks with hundreds of other students in near silence with a large clock prominent does little for the creative mind. I was most disappointed failing my Higher grade English as well as three other subjects. I did eventually retake it and passed at night school a few years later.

My arithmetic exam turned out to be a macabre affair. I was prone to spontaneous nose bleeds and started haemorrhaging all over my exam paper. I wonder what the examiner must have thought about all the bloodied fingerprints. I passed. Maybe he or she thought this kid must be some sort of psycho and might hunt me down if I don’t give him a pass mark.

I have been in exam situations in later life. Nursing and football refereeing come to mind but they are a bit more technical rather than creative. Ask me anything about the post operative care for a prostate procedure or the offside rule and I’m fine with that.

So a big shout out to Messrs. Jackson and Fitzpatrick for sticking by my true(ish) tales and for giving me the avenue to express myself.

I’ve tackled work (as a salesman, green keeper and nurse) and play (schoolyard and board games, swimming, tennis and basketball)

The profound (friendship, religion, punishment, sliding door moments, family relationships, mental health)

The mundane (fashion, footwear, flares, roads and refuse)

Travel (USA, Yugoslavia and Switzerland)

But mostly I’ve written about music.

Playing it (flute, double bass, recorder, horn section, Hammond organ and Mellotron)

Studying it (education, orchestral, time signatures and sight reading)

Styles of music (rock, pop, jazz, folk, western swing, ambient and reggae)

And of course listening and critiquing it from Asleep At The Wheel to Steve Winwood and everything in between. It really should be A to Z. Zappa is a work in progress.

I hope you dear reader have enjoyed my first one hundred attempts at bringing back those halcyon years of the seventies with tongue in cheek reverence and a bit of humour. If nothing else, the whole experience has become somewhat cathartic for me.

*Shameless plug alert !*

Coincidentally I also have other scribblings on my own site.

https://thecatharticthistle.wordpress.com/blog

My God, I’ve become a media whore ! Next thing you know I’ll be posting Tik Tok videos.

Tea break over, it’s time to face up to the fast bowlers once more. What’s this ? The groundsman has entered the rooms in a blind panic.

I’ve got some bad news and good news.

What’s the bad news then ?

The secretary’s son has been crushed on the wicket by the heavy roller !

Good God ! What’s the good news ?

I think he’ll take spin.

(Post by John Allan from Bridgetown, Western Australia – May 2026)