I like the word cutaway. It rhymes with Steinway. Camera, piano. Two objects meant for creative hands. Black and white keys, black and white photography. Monotone – which rhymes with Parlophone – the label that signed The Beatles when no-one else would touch them – groups with guitars are on the way out now…
Cutaway, castaway. Desert Island Discs. My eight discs would have to be:
1. Roy Harper – The Green Man
2. Christie Moore – Ride On
3. Rolling Stones – Prodigal Son
4. The Beatles – Strawberry Fields Forever
5. Bob Dylan – Nettie Moore
6. Jethro Tull – Cheap Day Return
7. Johnny Cash – Wabash River
8. Davy Graham – Anji
This list will always change. If I chose it tomorrow, it’d be different. You have a go: it’s really hard to pin your favourites down. You start to remember the other songs it’d be hard to live without.
The book reminds me that it’s still with me. Books. The smell of them. Voigtlander sounds like a person who comes from the small island of Voigt. It’s a rocky escarpment where men eke out a living fishing, farming and sustain themselves through hard-drinking. You need to be fatalistic in a land where there are only two hours of daylight in summer.
Petzval sounds like Pretzel. My friend Ruth used to get through a packet a day. Curving bits of baked wheat that were polished like a hardwood. Twisted into shapes like miniature carpet beaters.
Now you have The Bible and Shakespeare. What would be your choice of book?
‘Well Sue, I think that it would have to be…’