Travelling Man

Goodbye to Oban, after the little Kerrera Ferry deposited me at the slip. Actually, not quite goodbye as I’d a couple of hours to kill before the train home. And blimey it was chilly round those streets: you can only sit eating a full breakfast for so long. It didn’t help that every place I sat in had the door open wide.
Still, before long I arrived at the station to be met by the woman in the green roadster and whisked home. Much catching up - and she treated me to Chrissie Hynde’s new album of Dylan covers which is quite excellent. 

For, of course, it was the great man’s 80th. When I was a youngster his first great tranche of albums was already behind him, though I remember the excitement at the release of Pat Garrett and then Planet Waves. How we sat in Stevie’s place at Malleny Croft, and at Johnnie’s at Goodtrees Farm, listening to the old 60s Bob albums. Bringing it All Back Home was hardly off the turntable. And then out came Blood on the Tracks, the first one I bought as he really hit a purple patch, and finally we all got to see him, hiring a transit van and driving through the night to Blackbushe for the great picnic with Clapton and others. 
And although there was a period when his new albums  came out and I didn’t even give them a listen, he’s always been there. And although I’ve seen some shockingly awful concerts, I still remember him at his best - the Playhouse in 95, backed by a kicking band - bass, guitar and drums with a bit of pedal steel; he was on top form right from the off with Down in the Flood. My pal Stewart was a total Dylan nut and had somehow got seats in row six. Not that we sat. And then a couple of years after, the absolutely wonderful Time out of Mind came out. Happy Birthday, Bob!