Andrew Kay: Shut the….

Stop moaning, make the most of life, you never know how long you have got

Oh how I tire of moaning. I am tired of people moaning and of me moaning too. What a state we are all in, moan, moan moan, when all around us there is so much to celebrate.
This all came to a head when I was looking at Facebook, or Whinebook as I now think of it. It was the weekend of Pride and someone I know was having a right old moan about it. I wanted to scream shut the… but I resisted.
I didn’t join in any Pride festivities this year as I was not in the right mood. Many friends were not going and the few that were did not call to ask if I wanted to join them. I stayed at home and cooked and gardened, well I tidied up my pots of plants and added a few new ones, hardly Kew but it makes me smile wen I get home to see some pretty plants and flowers – I am easily pleased.
Pride has always been a special event and one that over the years I have been proud to be a part of and enjoyed too. This year I simply did not feel like it, best stay home I thought – and I did!
Looking online it seemed like an amazing success and hats off to the people who tirelessly work to make it so. It certainly brings a huge amount of business into the city and for that we should all say a hearty thank you.

My Saturday was a quiet one, friends came for lunch on Sunday and together we mourned the sad and seemingly premature death of Cilla Black. I have always been a huge Cilla fan, especially those early recordings made at the Abbey Road Studios. I listen to them often, although I do skip over a few tracks, I can’t listen to “Oh you are a mucky kid” I’m afraid.
The outpouring of grief was almost immediate and seemed heartfelt – then the whiners started. How rude I thought. How bloody rude. Okay, you may not have liked her music, her accent, her raucous humour. Okay, you may have been told that she was not always that nice, she may have had her faults. Well haven’t we all. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone I say ( I think someone else might have said that first).
Over the next few days I read with interest the comments from the people who knew her well and they proved to be both generous and honest. Paul O’Grady, a close friend of hers, was quite clearly moved but also frank about a woman who knew how to have a good time. Good for them I thought, living life to the full.
Cilla Black in interview had made it clear that she didn’t want to live beyond 75, when as she put it, things start falling off. I can see her point too. Perhaps we are all being kept going far too long, way past our best before dates.
It’s funny too how pop idols as they grow older become either sainted or demonised, although quite a few have done a very good job of demonising themselves, a Mr Paul Gadd (AKA Gary Glitter) for example.

I’m no believer when it comes to life after death, I gave up on that many years back when the cruel realities of the world we live in sort of crushed my belief in an all loving god (and I use a lower case ‘g’ intentionally there, if there is a god and he or she wants that cap ‘G’ then it’s about time they earned it). No, no life after death which means no heaven.
That’s a sad thought. One of the clips I saw online was of a much younger Cilla duetting with Marc Bolan and T Rex. Whoever made the Top of The Pops programme that had featured it was rather cynical about the pairing. I rather liked it. There they were singing Life’s A Gas – and clearly enjoying it. It made me wonder what other fabulous combos could be made up in that heavenly choir – and what noises might emanate from hell too.
I’m going to continue with my quest for some positive thinking for the forseeable future. I’m going to play all my Cilla albums and enjoy them. I’ve dug out the T Rex albums too and will give them a whirl, they made me happy as a teenager so why would they not make me happy now. If you need to moan then give it some thought and sort it out rather than whingeing.