September 11th, remembered

Yes, indeed. Phew. Memory served. Mission Accomplished.

The trick is to self-mockingly tell oneself (and all those around) that one's memory is hopeless and one is bound to forget *yet* again - and voilà! Succès.

My brother Pete is *not* one of those to whom to send one of those red-faced cards with elephants with trunks in a twist and the message "Whoops! Forgot again - sorree ..."

You either tie a knot in the hankie about his Sept 11 birthday or go hide under a rock.

Clearly the Corfu air is stimulating the grey cells because we were right on the button:

• Prezzies ordered in good time for Mr Amazon to deliver to Italy just before the day:
  • Two improving novels,
  • The new Bill Frisell
  • New La Bella black nylon strings
  • Some gardening gizmo that Mum said he'd like
  • And the Greek edition of his fave girlie mag. Sis in law frowns but it's excellent for learning t' lingo, at least that's our excuse and we're sticking to it.
• Dawn phone call to wish "chronia polla!" before he went out to the jardin to plod and plough.
• Breakfast champers our end to toast the golden boy

Quick dip in the pool and then down to grotty yardwork of my own (groan), made slightly bearable thanks to having uncovered a freebie CD from some Daily Mail edition of "Easy Like Sunday Morning" anodyne tunes.

Actually, rather a pleasant totter down memory lane:

1. Louis Armstrong's We have all the time in the world
   • composers Hal David/John Barry, so I assume it appeared in some Bond flick
2. Don't it make my brown eyes blue?
   • Crystal Gale's fine song, with which the memories flooded. Hearing it on Hong Kong radio and both of us going wow. Leaving work and finding the cassette in a shop and driving home with it as a surprise, putting it on over the evening drink. Is not one of life's pleasures a simple gift to an adored one that shows one listens and remembers?
3. Hot Choc's I'll Put you together again
4. Al Green Let's stay together, always a good 'un
5. Bobbie Gentry falling for Son of a preacher man
6. Deep-voiced Minnie Riperton Lovin' You
7. Hollies Not being heavy, being my brothaahh
8. Dr Hook's Sexy Eyes
9. Spandau Ballet, True (good choice!)
10. Blondie finding that the Tide is High
11. Steve Harley and the Cockney Rebs Making me Smile
12. Gerry Rafferty down Baker Street with that killer sax and ace guitar
13. Bobby McFerrin Not Worrying, being happy, which was fine the first hundred times but since hearing it sung to me by a wall-mounted sea bass I've rather gone off it
14. Pansy Donovan Leitch being Mellow Yellow
15. Helen Reddy Being a Woman
16. Beach Boys affirming that God Only Knows from the sublime Pet Sounds genius album
17. Ben E. King down in Spanish Harlem (composed by Leiber/Stoller, no less. Those boys delivered!)
18. Percy Sledge swearing Warm and Tender Love and reminding me to dig out the whole album to remind myself what happens when a man loves a woman.
19. Peabo Bryson and the divinely voiced Roberta Flack getting lucky and Tonight, celebrating their love, lucky devils
20. Aaron Neville Telling it like it is
21. Paul Young finding it Easy

Lunch with a local Greek authorette with a book coming out in October with launch party at the Corfu Palace. I make polite convo and ask about review copy distribution, display material for the major bookshops and singing session(s), local authors interviews on radio and TV, the basic basics. Nothing, so I offer to kick ass with the publishers and do some freelance agenting on her behalf. A job at last.

Back home for siesta but I've suddenly worked out how to solve a problem with the shredder so I spend the pm on my backside fiddling with the rubber shield that's sprung a hole and catches the mushier shreds and backs up til it clogs the machine.

Evening: whiskey on the terrace as the steaks grill, after which we decide to check out the TV. Nothing much on Greek news - Dubya at some ceremony looking like a mystified vole. I content myself gazing at the lovely Laura Bush. Talk about a pearl before voles.

Switch to the movie channel where a Peter Sellers Pink Panther is showing, the subtitles cleverly adjusted to reflect his franglais accent.

Pete calls to say hi and thanks again for the gifts and calls and give some tips on weeding round the pool. I tell him about my shredder fix and he sounds impressed. Apparently he hadnt added new strings on the Ramirez for 2 years and it sounds like a new guitar. He's got the Frisell on in the background and I say how tactful and he says no, really, it's good. It's Bill on guitar, Paul Motian on drums and Ron Carter on drums. I tell Pete that the last album he did that way, the drummer (a famous black batterie basher) got the date wrong and turned up a day late for the 2 days Bill had set aside for practice. "Asshole," comments Pete, "bet Bill was furious".