ARTICLES

Puddles and Nina Simone

English: Amy Winehouse at the Eurockéennes of 2007
English: Amy Winehouse at the Eurockéennes of 2007 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

During my uni days at Bristol a friend relayed to me, something she’d seen.You see, Bristol is a very hilly city. Its like a watered down version of Athens,Greece in that respect just less vertical and without thousand year old ruins punctuating the city. She’d been walking up a hilly street and seen two OAPs -quaint little old ladies in front of her scurrying ahead. They appeared to be headed somewhere fancy it seemed,  being dolled up and all. And then they just stopped walking. My friend who’d now caught up to their line of vision realised what had halted them in their tracks. It was a puddle. A regular rainy day puddle. They’d reached the top of the hill and now had a liquid hurdle to contend with. Conundrum or whaaat? Apparently they just stood there looking perplexed for a while or at least enough time to render the fact that they didn’t just walk around the puddle and carry on, anecdotal. Aww Bless.

Puddles and rainy days remind me of listening to ‘Mood Indigo’ on repeat. Granted its not as alluring and spellbinding as ‘I put a spell on you’ and ‘Feelin good’ or even have the snazzy rhythm ‘Sinneman’ does. But it’s open haunting quality made it my Nina Simone song choice for both meteorologically and emotionally overcast days for many years.Truth be told, i’ve always considered Nina Simone one of my potential ‘if i could have anyone dead or alive for a dinner party’ guests. The life and talent of the woman intrigues me. I’ve always been drawn to stories of strong brilliant/talented women who had self destructive inclinations, think Sylvia Plath or even Amy Winehouse and the like. 

Since we’re chatting about dead women, I guess I’ll share with you the poem (or one of the poems since im a greedy like that) I would like to have read when I die (yes I’ve already chosen, nutjob that I am). It is Emily Bronte’s ‘ No Coward Soul Is Mine‘  

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