Fallen Stone

I could never understand why my mother was interested in reading the obituaries but now I find that I am doing the same. What interesting lives many of the extremely elderly have lived and how many of the  people now featured are names that are familiar to me. "Good grief, they are younger than I am!" is a regular refrain from Himself. 'Rock star lives," I reassure him, "you've led a quiet life, you'll live for ever."  But it is a fact that we have reached an age where our contemporaries are coming to the end of their lives. Last Saturday's paper had the obituary of the photographer Peter Webb showing his famous photo of the Rolling Stones. It is called the Falling Stones and it makes me smile because it is easy to imagine them falling all over each other a few seconds after the camera has taken the shot. There stands Charlie Watts, suited and booted, dapper as ever. Yes, Charlie is my sort of rock star!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was saddened to learn of his death this week from the throat cancer that we thought had been beaten some years ago. 

I've always thought him an interesting drummer to watch - handsome, yes, and he just got better as he aged. I really liked his style. He drummed as though he were in a world of his own while Mick pranced about in the foreground. Charlie's drum sticks seemed to be alive and quite balletic. I've seen film of him playing jazz with friends and that is were he seemed to be most happy and engaged with his fellow music makers, smiling, the jazz really suiting his drumming style.

Thank you, Charlie for all the pleasure you have given over the years. 

Peter Webb, born in 1942. A very good year for gorgeous boys!