Friday, 9 December 2016

A Nightingale Sang In Berkeley Square

It’s winter.  It’s late at night.  I am in Berkeley Square, and I am singing to myself.
Our step was as light as the dancing of Fred Estaire…..
Oh, hello, I didn’t see you there – mm? What’s that?  Oh yes, I’m fine, thank you, just a silly old man singing to no one.  Yes, thank you, let’s sit.  Oh, what is it – whisky?  Scotch?  Oh, you are a kind young man.  Thank you.  Mmm, warms that cockles nicely, doesn’t it?
Well, I’ve been out with some old colleagues for our Christmas party – I’m retired now, of course, but a few of us are invited back every year to join the young ones.  Yes, it was very nice, most convivial.  The group all went for drinks after, as usual, but I find I can’t keep pace with the young ones anymore, these places are so loud – but I don’t like to complain, and we’d had a lovely dinner so I left them to enjoy themselves.  Oh, it was a classy dinner – I daresay my old friends are now over-compensating with a distinct lack of class!  Haha, well you’re only young once – make the most of it!
Well, I was just heading home, and I stumbled upon the square.  Haven’t been here for years. 
What’s that, young man – do please speak up a little, won’t you?  My hearing…
Ah, yes, well, there’s a story to all that, the singing, I mean.
Tell me, young sir, are you familiar with the song about Berkeley Square?  Long before your time, I imagine!  Oh you do know?  Oh, how wonderful – Nat King Cole, that’s the one!  Vera Lynn sang it as well, but Nat King Cole, he was the one I always liked.  My father used to sing the songs.  And a friend, a very dear old friend…  
I will always associate that song with summer, with Riley – and with Jimmy.
These were my musician friends, you see.  We played together for many years, mostly in the summer, you know, festivals, those kinds of things.  Yes.  What magnificent players they were!  Jimmy was a horn player – trumpet man.  Could play with everyone, would sit there all night and play with every band that came through.  Tom Riley, one of the finest piano players – sang the blues. 
We played the festivals, toured around all over the place, what fun we had…Jimmy was a terrible man for the drugs – oh, have I shocked you?  Well, your generation aren’t the only ones who know how to rebel and have fun doing it!  But they were more innocent times, drugs were simply a part of things then, it was just about expanding the mind, that sort of thing, you know.  It wasn’t dingy, it was nice – older people simply knew nothing about it, so it wasn’t really an issue.
Well, Jimmy was a raconteur, had everyone in stitches – filthy, but very very funny!  Younger people now, think they invented it all….but we knew how to have a good time.  Oh, you are nice, thank you.  Do you know, people say that the young have no respect these days – I’ve never believed it.  Never.  Ah, Cheers!  They said the same thing about my generation, exactly the same.  They were scared of us, so scared – the way we carried on, I can understand it now that I’m older, you know.  Give us oldies a break, eh?  We’re not all like that – that’s right, and we need to do the same, let young people be young – you enjoy yourselves, there’s plenty of time to settle down and be boring!  Let he without sin cast the first stone, all that.  Not that I’m religious, mind you.
Well, late at night, at these festivals, after hours, they used to sing that one, about Berkeley Square.   Jimmy would surprise everyone, grab a microphone and join in the singing.  Everyone heard him speak and thought he couldn’t sing!  But he could, had a decent voice did Jimmy.  Riley was the real singer, Jimmy could hold a tune, but he saved his breath for playing the trumpet.  They would be there all night, singing and mucking about, just enjoying themselves.  I played too, you know, joining in with them.  Oh yes, I played with them.  We were friends, good friends.  But we were always on the road, you know musicians…
Oh, oh, forgive me, I’m rambling on like a boring old – oh, well, thank you, don’t mind if I do – nice drop that.  A wee dram, as my father used to say.
Hahaha, he used to go to the big stages, you know – Jimmy – with his trumpet!  And he’d stand in the crowd and join in with the band!  And, well, everyone could hear him, he played so clear and so loud.  One time we were watching….God, what were they called?  Well, you’d know them, young as you are – trust me, you’d know them.  Anyway, Jimmy’s there, in the crowd, big crowd.  And he just starts – hahaha – he just starts playing, you know, blaring it out, nice and loud.  And the singer stops everything, right in the middle of a song, and he says “Where’s that bloody trumpet?!”  And it’s Jimmy, of course – and they invite him up on stage!  And there he is, up on stage, like it’s just another day, grinning with his big, fa – ah….oh, I’m sorry.  A silly old man getting choked up.  After all this time.  It’s been so long.
A Nightingale sang in Berkeley Square…
You know, whenever I hear that song now, I think of Jimmy.  He’s gone now, of course, like most of them – but he went so young.  It was so sad.  I know the song is really about the Berkeley Square in London, not this one – but I sing it to myself and think of Jimmy every time I see this place.  And here I am, like a lost child…..but I remember him laughing, grinning, playing – he was a happy chap, you know, tremendous fun.  You young fellows enjoy yourself!  Make the most of your friends – nothing better in this world than friends, I can tell you, they’re so impor – oh, forgive me, I do feel silly, getting all emotional. 
But I must go, it’s getting late.  You have yourself a lovely evening, all of you.
Yes, and Happy Christmas to you all!
And like an echo, far away, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square.
Goodnight!

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