Yes I have no bananas today

The world is in soft focus today. Mist shrouds the place. Trees & houses appear & disappear as the mist swirls around. All a bit other worldly.

I've been getting on with the ironing. As usual I had BBC Radio 4 on. At the end of "Saturday Live" there is a little feature on inheritance tracks, in which people, usually celebrities but not always, choose a piece of music they feel they've inherited from their childhood but which they still have a nostalgic affection for, & a track they nominate for future generations to value similarly.

I've sometimes played this game to myself. I know what would be my inherited track. Without doubt it would be "Yes, we have no bananas today".

Why? In my childhood home, music was virtually banned, despite the fact my mother's family were semi-professional musicians & my mother's mother lived with us when I was young. Yet I did have an urge for music. We did have a violin, my Gran's, in the house & a stand-up piano. Neither were ever played. We also had loads of sheet music, presumably that had arrived with my Gran.

The violin never attracted me. Maybe because even to my childish ear any endeavour on that untuned instrument was torture. But with the piano I did surreptitiously lift the lid & have a go at trying to teach myself. One of the books of music was a manual to teach piano & from this I learnt something of fingering. But the first piece of music I managed to play that sounded like a proper tune, worthy to sing to, was "Yes, I have no bananas today." My pride was unbounded.

I suppose my other reason is that all the adults in my childhood home had survived the deprivations of two world wars. My mother often spoke of the shortage of such luxuries as bananas in those days. To her dying days she kept a vast store cupboard full of tea, sugar, tinned fruit, ready for the next great war. Thankfully that time never came, but her fear of the possibility was tangible.

My track to leave is uncertain. I go between three I think. One would be Simon & Garfunkel's "Bridge over Trouble Waters", a song I've always loved. I always liked the image of a love so great that a person would lie down to act as a bridge over troubled waters to ease the way for you. That person I found in the Fox.

The second would be the gravelly voice of Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World." It expresses so much of the wonder I feel about the world around me & I would wish everyone could share.

The third would be Ella singing Cole Porter's "Every Time we Say Goodbye". Once, when I was in hospital awaiting ops on my knees, the hospital radio team came round for requests. The Fox, who was visiting, & I chose something by Cole Porter preferably with Ella singing. This was the piece they played. As Ella moved from major to minor, the sung pulled on our heartstrings. Although we both hoped for the best from the ops, we couldn't be sure. When we parted that evening, not knowing if I'd even survive, we both died a little & wept a little. Now whenever I hear that song, particularly the sheer pathos in Ella's voice as she changes chords, I'm back in that ward, fearing I'd never see the Fox again & dying a little.

No I think it would be the second song. Future generations need to be reminded of the sheer wonder of the world. That would be a valuable gift indeed to leave to future generations.