Looking Out On The Morning Rain

My Dear Fellow,

I didn’t know what to listen to during my commute this morning. I was feeling listless and unenthused and I just didn’t have the heart to listen to any more post-Humph ISIHAC. But because I love a theme, and because it is pouring down here, I settled on “It Might As Well Rain Until September” by Carole King.

Truth be told, I was not in the best frame of mind. I had just woken up from a really realistic dream in which some officious little twerp told me that according to their records they could only afford to have me work for 45 minutes a week. In the dream, I was annoyed because of money, but on the other hand delighted because I can easily spend 45 minutes just unpacking my stuff in the morning and getting my cup of tea.

I swear it was so convincing that I woke up unsure whether I needed to go and have a shower or not. The rain was battering against the window and I was warm and it was tempting to believe in my Fantasy Dreamtime Annoying Little Twerp. But then Punky was sick under the bed and reality crept in.

It was in a difficult spot too. He’d managed to throw up JUST OUT of arm’s reach, so cleaning it naked at 6.15 was a bit of an adventure in squatting and stretching. Try not to picture it. Ooh, too late eh? Sorry about that.

I wasn’t cross with him, poor little chap, but it didn’t help my mood which has been dampened of late and I don’t know why. I’m irritable, impatient and grumpy. I find myself torn between wishing September would come sooner and wishing it would never arrive. I was thinking this as I squelched to the bus and hence “It Might As Well Rain Until September”.

Fortunately, I am cursed with a hummingbird brain, and am easily distracted. And as I sat in a hot, crowded, sauna-like bus, fogged with the breath of 60 dispirited commuters, Carole King really cheered me up. I was listening to her album, “The Legendary Demos” which is FANTASTIC. It’s been ages since I just sat and listened to her and I’d forgotten how much I love her voice and these songs. And it is sort of adorable how she sings the songs she wrote for blokes, like “Take Good Care of My Baby” like a dude, ad-libbing, “Take good care of her, y’hear?” and “She used to be MINE” at the end. So it was great stuff, and then she sang “Natural Woman” and I found myself wanting to go, “ah-ooop” just like Aretha’s backing singers did that time.

I restrained myself. They would have looked at me funny on the bus.

So I arrived at work, tromping through the morning rain in a much improved state of mind. I love Carole King. She makes me feel like a natural woman.

Ah-ooop.

Parsones

p.s. Another reason to love "Natural Woman" is because of a conversation I had with Princess Normal about the song, a couple of years ago. "I wonder what she meant by 'natural woman'?" I asked. "Bushy and smelly?" ventured the Princess.

It is moments like these that cement our friendship, you know.