Yep, time machines do exist! Where do you end up?

They surely do!


This morning, I heard the song above playing on an obscure radio station that possibly plays to people who are in the same ballpark age group as I am…

And I was transported in my little time machine to my first kiss. I was in primary school and the ravisher of my lips was a boy named Ian. It was an odd kiss, as I was more concerned with the mechanics (should my eyes be closed? At what angle should my head be positioned – because it probably looked as though one ear was directly aimed at heaven, waiting for that loud call from God. God usually stood in for my father, so when my daddy wasn’t there, the expectation of God showing up did a pretty neat job of keeping me unkissed!)

But, God must have been otherwise preoccupied that evening and, as Blondie crooned in the background, I discovered that the first kiss is always the most memorable. Not because it is the greatest kiss, but because there is nothing to compare it to at that stage.

So I hunted down the track and played it again – and the nostalgia rose up again. It seems that this time machine has a repeat button. But I know that only the old adebbie harry.jpgre nostalgic, so I hit the 2016 button and dragged myself from 1980 back to the present, and when I arrived back here, I suddenly felt old. And I wondered if Debbie Harry was still alive. She is, and is 71 years old this year.

My dad, who eventually let go and let God struggle with his daughter, always says that getting old is easy – you grow into it. I guess it’s a little like the frog in the pot of water. The rapture the frog is waiting for is far removed from the one I held my Beechies breath for decades ago.

Anyhow, today will be a good day to dust off the eighties albums. I will hunt down some neon green socks and cool Madonna glasses and bright blue eyeshadow. Sometimes there is a blur in my memory and I’m not sure where the 70s ended and the 80s began. ‘Cos I’m so tempted to dig up a pair of gym tights (still in wrapper) and pretend they’re the footless tights we loved so much.

On second thoughts, perhaps I’ll just do some work and then pop out to the shops later to buy a jar of night cream. At least I’ll feel younger when I climb back into my time machine, and perhaps I’ll even meet someone there who – like me – looks old but still feels as though it all happened last week Saturday.

Where did Blondie take you? Or perhaps you have never even heard of her.