Still got the beat: The Go-Go's performed 'virtually' one of their hits from the early 1980s on The Today Show last week
They were one of the seminal US bands of the early to mid-1980s, and broke ground as an all-women group who wrote their own songs, played their own instruments and had massive commercial success.
The Go-Go's star shone bright and furious for a few years in the first half of the '80s, but the band has continued to regroup throughout the past four decades, and their early hits have remained memorable and fresh.
The full classic line-up returned two years ago when bassist Kathy Valentine resumed her role after a five-year absence.
And not even the Covid-19 pandemic has been able to keep them down. They've managed to perform songs "virtually" by hooking up online from their homes and gardens - and the results are a masterclass in rocking pop that transcends the passage of four decades.
Some would argue The Go-Go's contribution to popular music has been overlooked. It's certainly a mystery why they've not been inducted into the Rock n' Roll Hall of Fame.
At their best it was always been about catchy, upbeat songs played in a rocking style. Last week, they performed a virtual version of We Got The Beat on The Today Show in the US.
How many other groups, who had their heyday almost 40 years ago, can knock out performances like this even when the band members are miles apart? You go Go-Go's.
VIDEO: The Go-Go's perform We Got The Beat virtually on The Today Show
World changed: the calendar still showed the month of March
When I returned to my apartment, just over five months had passed since I was last there. The air was stale and musty, the unmistakable odour of long-vacated places.
On the wall I found the calendar as I had left it, freshly turned to the month of March 2020.
But now it was August.
If things had gone to plan, I'd have been back from my vacation in time to turn the page to April. If things had gone to plan.
But plans are something the world has had to forgo this year. The Covid-19 pandemic brought us all to a shuddering halt; stranded in place, wherever that might have been at the time, and adjusting our lives to the changed circumstances.
So it was for me for five months, until I was able to return to Bermuda and the temporarily unoccupied apartment. It took many days to bring it back to life - to clear away the mould and dust that had taken over, and to circulate fresh air into every corner.
The mandatory four days of quarantine allowed plenty of time to scrub away at things. There were no distractions, no other places I could go, for I could merely look out from the doorway at the world outside, the places I had long grown familiar with, but where for a few more days I'd be unable to venture.
Then I got my 'day four' Covid test. I was clear and out of quarantine. A welcome release. I took out the trash, which included the empty pages of the calendar, those months away that had passed when I was elsewhere and living through these surreal times.
Now I look at the calendar and wonder if normality is returning. Is the world soon to be back on an even keel? Can things return to going as planned?
Plans - they no longer seem so solid as they once did. A lesson to carry into the new normal.
Up here nothing matters. With only time, nature and wind, things become transcendent.
On Lamentation Hill I feel a longing. The breeze carries small, floating seeds - a foreshadowing of autumn. Trees tall and proud have grown here all the time that elsewhere I have lived and grown. They are markers of time - of the years passaging through our lives.
A granite rock, embedded with delicately glistening quartz in the full glory of the sun as it breaks clear from drifting clouds, provides a resting spot.
From this warm oasis the forest, the braes and higher hills frame the horizon. A gentle wind, a mellow hum through branches of bush and tree, keeps insects at bay. A bird chirps.
I give thanks for years come and gone, that slipped by with the same almost unnoticeable movement of the world turning, or the clouds that drift west to east.
Thoughts shift to people and places I have known. Where are they now? If we were to meet again, what conversations might we share about how our lives turned out, and how far off shared times meant something always to be remembered?
The sun blinks out, obscured by a grey cloud. The warmth fades, the perfume of the heather is gone. It is time to move on.
Home cinema: DVD entertainment during the months of lockdown ranged from Toy Story (all four films), to classics not seen for 30 years, such as Ghost and Airplane! - and a new "old" discovery Breakfast at Tiffany's
In the strange world of the Covid-19 pandemic lockdown, the realm of films and shows brought comfort and escapism.
Yes, there was television news and updates, and re-runs of shows on the broadcast channels. But personal choices from a DVD library were more intimate and treasured.
It was escapism to a place of familiarity; seeing how we lived before the world was turned upside down. And it was an opportunity to suspend belief and enter a different realm for a few hours.
The films, shows, and characters became friends during a time of uncertainty.
So what did you watch during those stay-at-home months?
Here is our selection. Toy Story - all four films. I'd never seen any before, but for two consecutive weekends the saga unfolded one delightful movie at a time.
Likewise, the TV comedy show Still Game - which spans nine series and 20 years. The lockdown days were immensely brightened by the half-hour gems of laugher. And the good news is the box set is not yet exhausted.
Comedy and romance were well served, with a sprinkling of adventure, from a first viewing of Breakfast at Tiffany's, a delight, to comedy classic Airplane!, Friday, and the 80s/90s moments of Ghost, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days and Sliding Doors. There wasnew flicks in the shape of Star Wars: Rise of Skywalker, and Stan & Ollie. And the out of season treat of animated classic The Snowman, plus the truly uplifting Sunshine on Leith.
Somewhere down the road they'll be watched again, perhaps when we are back in a "normal" world. Though even then, I'm sure, they'll jolt a flashback to the strange uncertain days of the lockdown, and the pleasure, comfort and familiarity they afforded.
VIDEO:Please Don't Go - a musical moment from Sunshine on Leith.
Tomorrow will be a good day: Captain Tom Moore was among the heroes who were a light to the world during the pandemic
Did it all really happen? I ask myself.
The past four months feel like a surreal dream, in which we have all been cocooned in an isolated lifestyle, a globally shared singular experience the like of which has never happened in living memory.
From watching, with unusual interest, each turn and twist in the daily news, to cheering for heroes - the NHS, and Captain (now Sir) Tom Moore, who was a light to the world and told us "Tomorrow will be a good day".
We witnessed images of city streets deserted, and stared at the blue sky, glorious and untrammelled by the vapor trails of planes.
The world took on a hush and the sounds of nature, of wildlife and birdsong, came to the fore to soothe our anxious minds.
Who will ever forget the children's rainbow artwork for the NHS adorning countless windows and doors. They brought joy and a feeling of togetherness and hope, and lifted my spirit when I saw them while travelling on a near empty bus, through a subdued land, for a rare grocery errand.
Yes, the land was subdued, but also recharging. Values about what is important in life and what are mere niceties or extravagancies, were being challenged.
There has been a recalibrating of what we know, love and cherish; a greater appreciation for the wonder of life and the world, and for the people we see, often in fleeting glimpses, but who are sharing the all-encompassing experience that defines the moment and will be remembered for as long as those us here today are still around.
Did it all really happen, this global coronavirus pandemic? The rainbows in the windows say yes.
Dave Greenfield: at the heart of The Stranglers' sound
(Photograph by Stranglers French Forum)
Thirty-four summers ago, Dave Greenfield climbed into the back of a former London taxi for a short ride to a disused quarry lake in Cambridgeshire. The man at the heart of The Stranglers' sound carried a shoulder travel bag - an ever-present accessory, the contents of which followers of the band have forever guessed at.
It was a tight squeeze in the taxi. Greenfield rested his enigmatic bag on his lap. I gazed at the bag and wondered if perhaps it contained one of his many pet rats, the rodent synonymous with the band since their debut album Rattus Norvegicus nine years earlier.
But no question was asked. What else was a teenager, awed by the presence and aura of mystique of the musical mistro to do? Besides, there was work at hand to build and test a bathtub boat, an enterprise led by fellow Stranglers member Jean-Jacques Burnel. That pursuit would culminate at the World Bathtub Racing Championships in the south of France later that summer. That was why I was there. Greenfield, who lived nearby, had put in a surprise appearance to observe and lend support.
The taxi ride lasted only a couple of minutes, and then we piled out and set to work on the Ravenlunatic bathtub boat. Greenfield watched from the grassy bank.
I thought back to that day when, a week ago, news broke that Greenfield had died at 71, having contracted Covid-19 while in hospital. A few months earlier he had completed a tour of Australia and New Zealand with The Stranglers.
He was the keyboard player and an occasional vocalist. Along with Hugh Cornwell, Jet Black, and the aforementioned Burnel, he made up the classic original line-up of The Stranglers that was responsible for memorable hits in the Seventies and Eighties, such as No More Heroes, Peaches, Strange Little Girl, Always the Sun, and Golden Brown. Indeed, it was Greenfield who was central in creating the latter. He had continually offered up the waltztime tune at rehearsals only for it to be rejected, until the day came that it was used as the framework for the No.2 chart hit that was the band's greatest success.
Greenfield's distinctive keyboard playing and the sound of Burnel's bass are arguably the defining motif of the band through their career that now spans 46 years.
A year before the taxi ride, The Stranglers played a concert at the Music Hall in Utrecht, Netherlands. In the hours leading up to the concert, I stood at the entrance to the locked venue, listening to the band's soundcheck echo through the empty corridors and halls within. An instrumental run-through of the track Let Me Down Easy - a touching lament on life and death - was haunting and beautiful that early evening, accentuating the keyboard skills of Greenfield.
The Stranglers' music has been part of my life for more than 42 years. I've seen them more than 20 times in concert, across four decades. My first piece of printed journalism was a concert review of their Brixton Academy show in 1989, which helped land me a newspaper staff job the following year.
In September 2001, a three-day Stranglers Convention was held, with the band and many of their supporters taking over Pontins Leisure Centre at Brean Down, Somerset, for a weekend of live shows, quizzes, Q&As, and a five-a-side football contest.
On the first evening, my best pal Rob and I walked into the campus restaurant/bar, The Queen Victoria, and saw Greenfield sitting at a table near the door. Much has been written about his approachable nature, and that evening he was happily engaged in a group conversation around drinks with some fans. We decided to head elsewhere where we later renewed our "bathtub race team" friendship with Burnel. We'd hoped to speak with Greenfield on the way out, but by then he had gone.
Beyond those two brief moments - in the taxi, and at Pontins - my memories of Greenfield are all from the many shows I attended - including the London Roundhouse in 2007 when Greenfield's keyboards malfunctioned, causing the band to restart four times - including a complete relaunch of the gig that was at that stage more than half-an-hour into the set.
Greenfield shone on so many of The Stranglers' finest work, memorably on Down in the Sewer, Genetix, Waltzinblack and their cover of Walk on By.
The Stranglers' career can be sliced into three distinct eras, defined by the coming and going of lead singers Cornwell, Paul Roberts and incumbent Baz Warne. Each era came with its own idiosyncrasies, nostalgia and memories. But through them all Greenfield, Burnel and Black were the group's mainstays. Ill health forced Black to step away from all touring about five years ago.
Life can be said to be like a taxi ride. We are passengers, getting on and off at different points, not too sure where it started or where it is going. But the things we love, the friends, the music, the experiences; they are all part of the ride.
A quote attributed to John Lennon goes: "I'm not afraid of death because I don't believe in it. It's just getting out of one car, and into another."
Dave Greenfield has now left the taxi.
Fond adieu, Dave. Fly straight.
Online video tribute to Dave Greenfield (music Golden Brown):
Stop the noise: silence is important when trying to reflect,
engage deep-thinking, thoughts and creativity
It's increasingly difficult to find peace and quiet in today's world. So how does constant noise impact on our wellbeing, our thoughts, creativity and temperament?
I treasure silence. It is the best situation for me when gathering deep thoughts, reflections, or projecting ideas. It's as though the brain is a computer, with a special short-term memory function - a RAM [random access memory] if you will - for such immediate tasks as critical thinking and creativity. But this RAM is vulnerable to interference from outside distractions - the sounds of voices, commotion, and barking dogs, to name a few that result in a diminished capacity to conjure and hold thoughts and to build on them.
Silence does not mean a complete, deadening void. Ambient sounds such as the wind through the air or moving over branches and leaves, or the beat of rolling ocean waves, and even the murmur of indistinct faraway voices are forms of "white noise" and generally a nonintrusive backdrop to the peace needed for deep thought and reflection.
In this world of constant motion and noise, that art of reflection so needed to make sense of who we are, and what things mean for our lives and emotions, is increasingly crowded out.
Where we are heading? At the end of the day you might escape the disruptive noises of the workplace only to find the neighbourhood bliss is no more. It has been replaced by a minefield of pet animal calls and frustrated squeals, garden machinery and the sound of traffic.
Oh for the sounds of nature, the chirp of birds, the soulful swish of the wind, and the chance to reflect deeply on this journey we call life.
So if you have them, guard those secret places of silence and solitude, and treasure their redemptive and energising qualities.
