Tempest of note when you no longer go by the Grace of Bob
ON THE histrionic bit of the classic Queen song, Bohemian Rhapsody, Freddie Mercury gets even more bombastic than usual.
That’s the “scaramouch” bit where he exclaims “thunderbolt and lightning/ very very frightening”.
Scoffed at by many rock cognoscenti, Rhapsody remains a perennial favourite with lots of popkids, if the Facebook entries by members of various rock aficionado groups are to be believed. Great guitar solo by Dr Brian May, BTW.
I actually do have the album that it’s on. Although I haven’t played it for decades, I’ve heard the song on jukeboxes and PAs many a time.
Anyway, the frightening thunderbolt(s) and lightning part was pertinent to me the other day when I was caught up in just such a situation… and I have a bruise and a bump to prove it.
I was out for a perambulation with my two dogs, Fudge and Ziggy. When I left home in funky Doringkloof, the sun was out, although the sky looked pretty ominous.
I thought nothing of it and we set off and even paused here and there to say hi to our canine chums. However, when we got about halfway, the dark skies from the south started closing in rapidly.
When we got to the home of golden Labrador Poppie – which belongs to friends of mine, Rudi and Geraldine – it started bucketing down.
The streets were transformed into gushing rivulets as we splish-sploshed our way home. The pelting raindrops were the least of our worries, because lightning flashes, accompanied by heavy thunder, illuminated our way.
I tried not to run underneath trees as I recalled that song by Shawn Phillips, The Ballad of Casey Deiss, with the line “the lightning came and my brother died”. Gulp.
I even sent up a few “so help me God”style exhortations. When I related this to fellow Doringklower Jaco later, he said I must have felt a bit like Noah.
I was mighty relieved when we got home. We stumbled in and sprawled underneath the lapa to catch our breath; poor old diminutive Fudgie, in particular, gave some worrying seizure-type wheezes along the way.
After we settled down, we went indoors. The area by the front door is tiled and with them being drenched, they were more slippery than JZ during question time.
As I stepped onto the surface with the dogs in tow, my feet slipped out from underneath me. I fell backwards and, bang, hit the back of my head on the tiles.
I saw stars and feared I was concussed; a bit like Basil Fawlty in that hilarious “don’t mention the war” sketch. I had a shower after which I felt okay and the three of us had a nap. Like I said above, I still have a bump and a bruise to prove it.
The weather cleared up, and a bit later I was able to restore equilibrium by visiting Henk, Phil and Jomo’s Café de Café to contemplate life over the rim of a jar of superb Jack Black ale.
This was with specific reference to the astonishing events in Zimbabwe and the ignominious exit of mad Bob after his initial pig-headed refusal to leave with, erm, grace.
Much has been written about the situation. The tipping point, it seems, was the sacking of “Crocodile” Emmerson Mnangagwa and the apparent anointment of Bob’s Gucci spouse Grace as heir apparent. Maybe there’s a lesson to to be learnt by regional leaders bent on “keeping it in the family”!
● RIP Malcolm Young from AC/DC… we salute you.
● RIP too guitarist/vocalist Stan who, with brother Sion – known as Mellow – has been keeping us entertained at various outlets in the Doringkloof/Irene area for many years with a fine selection of folk favourites.
He was aged 72 and died recently, in the arms of Sion, after the onset of a sudden cardiac/respiratory condition.
Glad to say, Sion is still playing. Thanks for the great tunes guys… your legacy will live on.