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There are recent rumours that Julie Andrews did a concert
and sang a favourite little tune from the Sound of Music. You know the
one; it’s called something like “These Are A Few Of My Favourite
Things”. There were a few changes to the words and
as Julie and I get a little older, I thought you might sympathise and cope with
this rendition even if you are thinking of spending the next week on the Sunset
Strip in Sant Antoni.
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| Sunset
from Café del Mar
Picture © Gary Hardy (1990) |
I’ve been
reading about this in The Mini Rough Guide To Ibiza & Formentera and
it sounds like it’s worth making the journey just to see the sunset again,
even if we have to go by land and sea because my friend won’t fly. Apparently
this strip thing is where Café del Mar used to be all on its own, and I
remember when they had to bring sand to make a beach out of the rocks at the front
each year. I’m sure I’ve told you, but they once charged me for a large
one I’d had the year before. Actually I once met someone
who was famous for about six hours when he appeared in a rock band on TV and earned
enough to buy one of the apartments above the café and it is apparently
decorated in the same way, like a Roman amphitheatre turned upside down. He wouldn’t
rent it to me though and I was upset about that. You look out of the window when
you get up and all you can see are coast to skyline bare-breasted Scandinavians
and Germans. And now there are apparently loads of bars
all in a row where you won’t hear anyone singing anything like this: Linament
and nose drops and needles for knitting,
Walkers and handrails and new dental
fitting,
Bundles of magazines tied up with string,
These are a few of
my favourite things. Walking sticks, cataracts and
hearing aids and glasses,
Mrs Whip’s false teeth and no one makes passes,
Pacemakers, golf carts and back yards with swings,
These are a few of my favourite
things. When the pipes leak,
When the bones
creak,
When the legs go bad,
I simply remember my favourite things,
And then I don't feel so bad. Sweet tea and crumpets
and corn pads for bunions,
No spicy hot food or omelettes with onions,
Bathrobes and heat pads and my meals they bring,
These are a few of my favourite
things. Back pains, confused brains and no fear
of sinning
Thin bones and fractures and hair that is thinning
And we won't
mention our short shrunken frames,
When we remember our favourite things. When
the joints ache, when the hips break,
When the eyes grow dim,
Why then
I remember the great life I've had,
And then I don't feel… so bad. I
hope you don’t feel like that - though I do - and you are doing wonderful
things in Ibiza because I’m on my way again and now Rick says he’s bought
six short-sleeved shirts. I hope they don’t say David Beckham on the back. Ends Ps
I mended the keyboard after last week’s debacle by buying a new one. But
it was too late to stop the somewhat abbreviated vignette of a column. Then I
got this E-mail from a reader called Michael who shall remain nameless: “Hi
Sinclair, I've heard of some lame excuses but what
a good one that was. Should it happen again, type your document in Word but beforehand
alter the tab settings (under Format) to 0.3cm from 1.27cm. After each word all
you will have to do is hit the tab key to get a fairly 'get-away-with-it' spacing
thingy. The road to...Ibiza. I shall sit back and
watch this turn into some sort of Bob Hope/Bing Crosby escapade.”
Sinclair Newton
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