We look at the past through rose coloured glasses.
Somehow, over a period of time, our perception of the past mellows. The bad things tend to fade until they are out of focus, disappearing in our rear view mirrors like the T Rex in Jurassic Park.
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During the pant-wetting tumultuous anticipation of the imminent birth of the Royal Sperm Tumour this week I was informed via Twitter that the child would be named Spencer (in homage to Princess Diana Spencer). I posted on Facebook that that was okay by me as my grandfather was named Spencer (after his mother’s family). My Dad and my son’s middle names? Spencer. My Dad’s sister married a James Spencer.
Bullseye Records of Canada
Segarini: Don't Believe a Word I Say 