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e, case in point, a friend of mine, who spends his leisure time nipping a glass of valuable wine and looking back on his accomplishments. A while ago we were reminiscing about the Swinging Sixties. Remember them? Yes, there was a time, back when the years began with a 1960, that people in England liked to think they led the globe, in music, vogue, affair, oh, and all those additional important people endeavours. Like sex. In the 1960s sex changed; the birth control pill made people more easygoing and tentative. Like what? I said, quizzing my friend. Because, as I remember, the thing about the 1960s is that I was there, but I don't recall doing much swaying. Whatever it was that was happening, it didn't appear to be happening to me.
For example, he said, he remembered hitchhiking up to London for the Stones agreement in the park. Not just anyone park, Hyde Park. Ah, and that was the Rolling Stones. It was 1969, Mick Jagger wore a frilly pearly shirt, loosened some doves and peruse a poem in luster of an of the founder members of the orchestra, Brian Jones, who had just died. You were there? I queried, (although I might have vaguely memorized). Yes, my pal had hitchhiked from Bristol where we lived, almost 120 miles, and ahead the motorway was finished, so it took about 4 hours, to London, with his sleeping sack on his behind. It was the night before. The park was already thronged, people lying on the grass, drinking and smoking. My friend connected in, getting drunk, smoking the dope he was offered, and talking about major entities, like their favourite Stones' melody. When it was time to sleep, they crawled into their sleeping bags and drifted off. That's while a youth girl sidled over to my friend, asked him if there was apartment for 2 in there, and nestled in nearby him. They made adore and went to sleep. That's it? Yes, that was it. Casual sex with a complete stranger, at an event to do with music, in the presence of our idols and mentors, popup stars.
So much for the 1960s. We calculated we were so clever, and all we have to remember namely a few bits of music and carnal thirst. It isn't much, namely it? Not many of a monument. In contrast, last week I went to the Graduation of one of my daughters. The University she happened to heed is cried Cambridge. To graduate, she had to clothes up in a robe with (fake) fur trimmings, take part in a procession from King's College to the Senate House, and there, in the presence of the Vice Chancellor and the Beadles, line up for her scroll. The graduands hiked ahead in lines of 4, where they were received along a matron in a dark cape who offered them every a finger of her hand to clutch. (No one knows why.) They then went singly along, and had to bend before the Vice Chancellor's representative. They put their hands together, for if appealing, and the lady, who was dressed in red gowns and looked like Santa Claus, put her hands over their's and whispered some words in Latin. They then had to stand, back off, bow their brains and exit at the side door. That's it. That's the observance. That's Cambridge University, which has been there since 1278. I can't help analytic that they are the sort of people who people like us, back in the 1960s, were jeering at, but they're still here, having weathered the upsets in society, and we have naught to offer but sleeping bags and pop music.
Or possibly we just got older and creakier. I discern namely Glastonbury Festival was ashore last week, variant hangover from years ago. It's been going since 1971 and was one venture apt emulate the success of Woodstock in America, all top bands, cumbersome vibes and mire. The television reported that there was muck at Glasto this year, as follows, but most people, these days, are coming arranged, wearing their designer Wellington boots. They too stay in hotels, some of them, alternatively nearas yetm houses, alternatively designer yurts, with their own built-in bathrooms, Berber walls hangings, and beds. Ah, more sophisticated times: the beds have replaced the slumbering bags, for some.
Maybe that's the point. People like the idea of music in th