Catch the wind

Dylan was too complex and longwinded to remember all the lyrics, Donovan was more accessible, girl-friendly. Nearly 8 million viewers can't be wrong and that instrumental in the last part was always something to wait for:

Though I was never mad about saffron or vice-versa, that song was the one which defined our early 20s.  We're not talking inner city concerts where everyone's promenading or listening to Cream, Zeppelin or ZZ Top on the road, we're talking here of weekends away, leaving Friday evening, getting back early Monday morning, oodles of the amber fluid, either in the forest or at some festival with quiet moments.

And this was where I did not understand my fellow males. Seriously.  We could play cards and get tanked anytime back home, argue cars or football, do both back in town - the major difference on these weekends IMHO was the girls, oodles of them.  I mean, chaps, is the Pope Catholic [oops in 2021] - what are we there for on that weekend, eh?  So this mate or that would get tanked and then look about for a floozy and sure enough, that type was always available but for me, the girl with the guitar was controlling things because they were her songs, not I'm A Man:

But far more than that, the girls around her were the quieter type, so nooky was not on the agenda, but pairing off and close-in work was and next day, the boys must have felt I was a traitor heading off into the forest with some female instead of kicking a ball around and being a pillock.  Mind you, I was more than capable of being one but back in town again.

And what were we discussing?  Not football, I can tell you that.  It was more likely to be about 'that pale lip thing on some females often making them look like a corpse' and so on.  I mean, I was actually interested in female perspectives, hearing how their minds worked feeling her around as Donovan sings above.  In short, the female was interesting, not to mention pleasant.

Don't get me wrong, chaps, the chaps were good fun too  - a bit difficult discussing double overhead cams with girls.

Fast forward a few decades and supposedly they've all gone off and happily married and divorced, various progeny and grand-progeny dotted about and I'm still like Keith Moon or David Campese or Vinnie Jones.  Not saying we provocative ones haven't had our marriages etc. but can't help thinking the guys who just got boozed and passed out in that forest arguing over ManU probably ended up doing better than I did.  Maybe.  Life is strange.