So this week I purchased the ultimate road trip soundtrack. It’s a new double CD out over here, called American Heartbeat, subtitled ‘A pulsating 80s rock collection’. Just my thing; I’m a total mullet rock aficionado. In fact, anything 80s is music gold to me – Blondie, Benatar, Bowie (what’s with the B’s?), Madonna, Michael Jackson (in his musical prime).

Discovering some of my favourite tunes on there – Heat of the Moment, Black Betty, Rosanna, Carry on Wayward Son (I’m too old to care about sounding cool about my music choices, I likes what I like and that’s that) – I snatched it up and went home. Images of driving a Cadillac across the desert singing along at the top of voice, looking fabulous in wide sunglasses and tanned skin, flashed through my mind.

When I got home I looked more closely, and discovered to my horror that the CD contained some songs from – shock! – the 70s.

Worse, not all of the beating hearts were actually American. Billy Idol was on there for Pete’s (Frampton’s) sake! (Yes I know Peter Frampton was born in England, but he’s now an American citizen. And he wasn’t even on this CD so it’s not like it matters.)

Other non-Americans include Air Supply, Yes, Whitesnake, and Bad Company, all of whom are Brits. There’s also Bachman-Turner Overdrive making an appearance, an Australian band.

So the point of all this is to say – who does the research for these compilations? I’m now questioning every compilation CD I’ve ever bought. All the Greatest Hits I’ve accumulated over the years – who’s to say they actually represent the greatest hits of their respective hit-makers? I can’t tell you all the number I’ve times I’ve bought a Greatest Hits compilation and been disappointed at the bland collection of so-called hits. I’m now curious to research if they’re really just a collection of the greatest B-sides of all time. There I was, naively believing the title of Greatest Hits. Is nothing sacred? What a fool I’ve been.

Having said that, American Heartbeats is pretty good if you’re a bit of a 80s rock dork like me (plus some 70s, but to everyone born in the 80s it doesn’t make a big difference).

 

From mullets, shoulder pads and leg warmers, to geriatrics. This week my 95-year-old grandmother, who has lived a somewhat sheltered, violent-less life, was beaten up. By a fellow OAP. I kid you all not.

She was in an argument with a man in her care home (they wind each other up something crazy, and if she weren’t senile and he weren’t a woman-hitting bully I’d say they totally fancy each other; after all, the best romances start with mutual dislike and verbal sparring that masks a fizzling attraction). He lost his patience and slugged her.

All I can assume is that he was a wife beater back in his day; I find it hard to believe an old man just suddenly becomes a woman-hitter after a gentlemanly lifetime. Still, it’s all good fodder for a story (I claim copyright as of right now…).

 

This column was late because I spent yesterday celebrating St George’s Day in my home village, and was planning to write up about it here. But I’ve changed my mind. The day itself is on Wednesday, so I’m curious to see what happens to commemorate it in the media, and will write something for next week’s column about it. Though it warmed my heart when I just typed in ‘St George’s Day’ to Facebook and it popped up with 213 Events.

No longer should this day be the black sheep of national days in the UK. If you're English, wave that red cross flag with pride!

-----------------------------------

Click here to read comments for this piece or to add a comment of your own!

------------------------------------------

 

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------