My Sweet Lord holds such memories for me. When I was seventeen our youth club put on a show for the parishoners, none of whom we really knew (we just used their church hall). We did sketches from Monty Python which left elderly matrons baffled and frowning, and parents clamping their hands over their children’s ears. We also did a dance routine to My Sweet Lord. Nigel was a member of the youth club too but we weren’t yet an item. He had the idea to use different coloured stage lights as the song progressed and try to coordinate light to beat. This involved switching the lights on and off continually. I had been ill and missed some of the practices. I knew the dance moves but not when to change from one to another. The other girls said they’d whisper to let me know. So the curtain rose on a motley crew of teenagers in home-made costumes. Helen had breasts, I looked like an ironing board dressed in satin. Sarah had a nervous twitch which, thankfully, she grew out of. Whoever was in charge of volume didn’t turn it up high enough so George Harrison was way back in the mix. Nigel’s light switches were the loudest thing in the performance. Imagine if you will the opening guitar strains of the song and instead substitute:
My Sweet Lord holds such memories for me. When I was seventeen our youth club put on a show for the parishoners, none of whom we really knew (we just used their church hall). We did sketches from Monty Python which left elderly matrons baffled and frowning, and parents clamping their hands over their children’s ears. We also did a dance routine to My Sweet Lord. Nigel was a member of the youth club too but we weren’t yet an item. He had the idea to use different coloured stage lights as the song progressed and try to coordinate light to beat. This involved switching the lights on and off continually. I had been ill and missed some of the practices. I knew the dance moves but not when to change from one to another. The other girls said they’d whisper to let me know. So the curtain rose on a motley crew of teenagers in home-made costumes. Helen had breasts, I looked like an ironing board dressed in satin. Sarah had a nervous twitch which, thankfully, she grew out of. Whoever was in charge of volume didn’t turn it up high enough so George Harrison was way back in the mix. Nigel’s light switches were the loudest thing in the performance. Imagine if you will the opening guitar strains of the song and instead substitute:
Hi Steph
ReplyDeleteMy Sweet Lord holds such memories for me. When I was seventeen our youth club put on a show for the parishoners, none of whom we really knew (we just used their church hall). We did sketches from Monty Python which left elderly matrons baffled and frowning, and parents clamping their hands over their children’s ears. We also did a dance routine to My Sweet Lord. Nigel was a member of the youth club too but we weren’t yet an item. He had the idea to use different coloured stage lights as the song progressed and try to coordinate light to beat. This involved switching the lights on and off continually. I had been ill and missed some of the practices. I knew the dance moves but not when to change from one to another. The other girls said they’d whisper to let me know. So the curtain rose on a motley crew of teenagers in home-made costumes. Helen had breasts, I looked like an ironing board dressed in satin. Sarah had a nervous twitch which, thankfully, she grew out of. Whoever was in charge of volume didn’t turn it up high enough so George Harrison was way back in the mix. Nigel’s light switches were the loudest thing in the performance. Imagine if you will the opening guitar strains of the song and instead substitute:
Click, click-click, click, click, click click.
Click click-click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click.
“CHANGE, Liz!”
Oh, the glories of youth.
Liz xx.
I would give anything to have been there to see that!
ReplyDeleteHi Steph
ReplyDeleteMy Sweet Lord holds such memories for me. When I was seventeen our youth club put on a show for the parishoners, none of whom we really knew (we just used their church hall). We did sketches from Monty Python which left elderly matrons baffled and frowning, and parents clamping their hands over their children’s ears. We also did a dance routine to My Sweet Lord. Nigel was a member of the youth club too but we weren’t yet an item. He had the idea to use different coloured stage lights as the song progressed and try to coordinate light to beat. This involved switching the lights on and off continually. I had been ill and missed some of the practices. I knew the dance moves but not when to change from one to another. The other girls said they’d whisper to let me know. So the curtain rose on a motley crew of teenagers in home-made costumes. Helen had breasts, I looked like an ironing board dressed in satin. Sarah had a nervous twitch which, thankfully, she grew out of. Whoever was in charge of volume didn’t turn it up high enough so George Harrison was way back in the mix. Nigel’s light switches were the loudest thing in the performance. Imagine if you will the opening guitar strains of the song and instead substitute:
Click, click-click, click, click, click click.
Click click-click, click, click, click, click, click, click, click.
“CHANGE, Liz!”
Oh, the glories of youth.
Liz xx.