(Note to anyone looking at this post in the Reader or on a phone you may need to visit the actual site to be able to view and listen to the music track)
Lyrics
Death of a Marriage (words & music by David A. Harley)
The blinds are down, the locks are changed,
His cases packed and sent:
Some boxes for collection gather dust.
They’re shaking hands like strangers – that’s all that either dares:
It’s just the death of a marriage and there’s no room left for trust.
The bedroom they shared is advertised to let,
And she’s moved in with the kids.
He’s found himself a bedsit, it’s handy for his job,
But it’s the death of a marriage that was too long on the skids.
He spends a lot of time alone, because the maintenance is crippling
And he hasn’t got the bread to do the town:
He’s restless and confused, and not too certain what he wants,
Feeling guilty, ‘cause he knows he’s let her down.
She’s anxious and she’s angry, and the kids are a pain:
They miss their dad, and mum gets upset easily.
She rings from time to time, and they talk about her problems:
She says he has it easy, and of course he disagrees.
Sometimes they meet for a lunchtime drink:
He babysits, and sometimes takes the kids out for the day.
They both see other people, but they’re scared to get involved:
They’ve both been hurt too much already, and there isn’t much to say.
Sometimes, almost by chance, they spend the night together,
And wonder how they managed on their own,
But sooner or later the arguments take over:
It’s just a dying marriage that refuses to lie down.
They live day-to-day with their crises and neuroses:
Making some sort of adjustment, as best they can they cope,
Huddled round the embers of the love that passed between them,
They see each other growing older, and they’re learning not to hope.
The blinds are down, the locks are changed,
His cases packed and sent:
Some boxes for collection gather dust.
They wave goodbye like strangers – that’s all that either dares:
It’s just the death of a marriage and there’s no room left for trust.
credits
from The Game of London, released April 19, 2021
Vocal, acoustic and electric guitars, words & music by David Harley.
Recorded at Centre Sound, Camden.
Reel4Transfer for recovering usable tracks from the Centre Sound tapes – which had suffered deterioration from ‘sticky shed syndrome’ – and transferring them to digital media.
The road to Istanbul is pretty direct from Thessaloniki and we were confident there would be plenty of traffic. After a couple of lifts in a row we found ourselves on the eastern side of Xanthi where the first of our troubles began. We were taken to Alexandroupoli where the driver and his mate expected us to stay in a motel with them and we had to virtually fight our way out of the car (remember the tent mallet?) Our first warning about accepting a lift with two males.
It wasn’t our day as the next lift was equally problematical. Although there was only the driver in the car, he took us off road and through woods to a place where he met up with some friends. No friends of ours though. Once again the mallet proved a deterrent. And we were left in the middle of nowhere with only a couple of houses and a petrol station nearby. We slept at the petrol station feeling very vulnerable and upset.
The next day however was much better, we got several good lifts including one in a Land Rover driven by an American accompanied by his young daughter who took us quite a distance into Turkey. The countryside was quite pretty before we entered Turkey, but from there it was quite barren and the road was dead straight so you could see for miles ahead. It was quite boring, but at least it was a safe ride.
When they dropped us off after buying us a meal in Tekirdağ we got a lift with a very eccentric lorry driver whose load was watermelons. He was very hands on should we say, and not always on the steering wheel. Once again the trusty mallet came to our rescue. I’m not sure who had the most bruises though. We called a halt to the abuse as we neared Istanbul and got out close to a camp site with one very large watermelon for our troubles!
After an exhausting couple of days we remained in the camp that afternoon and night happily sharing the watermelon with other backpackers. And on the following day we headed into the city by bus. It was busy. So many people of so many nationalities. We were soon approached by a young Turkish lad, about sixteen I’d say, who decided to be our guide and took us around the Blue Mosque, Hagia Sophia and then the Grand Bazaar where we bought sandals and a kaftan.
Blue Mosque (Sultan Ahmed Mosque)
He expertly protected us from all the older men who tried to harass us. We enjoyed sipping ice cold real lemonade and eating sweet cakes and visiting the infamous Pudding Shop where travellers placed adverts looking for a partner. Many were American draft dodgers heading for India. Handing our young guide a tip we happily returned to the campsite to spend our last evening there.
The Pudding Shop
The evening was spent in the company of a lad from Leicester who was with a Eurobus expedition. He joined us and played his guitar for a while and he was also a musician who played in a band back home. There seemed to be a lot of them on the road at this time.
The next day we were back on the road and got a lift almost immediately with a man in a rather beautiful car (I was not at all au fait with the different makes and models at the time, but I knew this one looked expensive.) He said he’d take us as far as Tekirdağ, but on reaching the crossroads outside the city instead of heading straight ahead towards the Greek border he turned right onto the road to Sofia in Bulgaria. It took some not too gentle persuasion – and yes the use of the mallet – to get him to pull over and let us out. It was the threat of me smashing his rear window that helped to change his mind.
It wouldn’t be the last of our difficulties in getting back to the Greek border. By 4pm we were roughly 50km from the border at Ipsala and we were stuck. It looked as though we’d be there for the night when we got a lift together – it was amazing how many people (men) stopped and offered to give one of us a lift. This was from another two Germans who looked harmless enough and we had had several good lifts from Germans – remember Harry and Ben? They took us to Alexandroupoli where we stayed the night close to the sea and then continued with them the following day to within 100 kms to Thessaloniki.
We rested for a while by the side of the road in the heat of the day. It was quiet. We relaxed in the sweet scent of some unknown flowers nearby and picked ripe blackberries, glad at last to be out in the fresh air after being cooped up in cars for so long. The decision to head to Istanbul had proved to be both traumatic and exhausting.
Not our best idea.
We eventually arrived in Thess around 3pm and made our way back to the previous campsite at Agias Triados which almost felt like home.
(for some reason I have hardly any photos of Istanbul from this journey – maybe I was out of camera film)
We were thankful to still be in one piece, not to mention alive or be sex slaves in Bulgaria!
“In my mid-20s I moved to London: it wasn’t necessarily intended as a permanent move, but somehow or other I stayed there for 25 years: single, married (twice), a parent, a clerk, a wood machinist, a systems administrator, and much else.This is the version as first recorded in 1983: the arrangement is less adventurous than the more recent recording (2021), but my voice was in better shape in those days“.
(Note to anyone looking at this post in the Reader or on a phone you may need to visit the actual site to be able to view and listen to the music track)
Lyrics
Coasting (1983)
The nights pass slowly, but they pass:
The days are paper-thin.
Life goes on much as usual:
Some games I lose, some I win.
Sometimes I feel that I’m sleepwalking
Through the streets of this grey city,
But then, it’s only been a month or two.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted
Through the routine chores of living
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
Today I walked in sunlight though the wind blew cold
Through my coat:
I thought about the coming spring, and I swear somewhere
I felt a twinge of hope.
I don’t expect to hear from you. I guess that’s how it should be:
There’s no point in chasing dreams that won’t come true.
It’s not the first time that I’ve coasted through the aftermath of loving
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
Sometimes I take a weekend walk by these muddy city shores
And old man river talks to me
But I can’t quite understand: my feet stay locked to the dry land
So he drifts on with the seasons out to sea
The weeks pass slowly but they pass
And I drift from phase to phase.
I’m sick of wishing you were here to help me
Through these bleak and restless days.
Sometimes I think I’m waking into another nightmare,
But it passes, as these feelings often do.
It’s not the first time I’ve been lonely, nor the first time I’ve been left,
And I’ll make it this time too
After you…
credits
from The Game of London, released April 19, 2021
Vocal, guitar, words & music by David Harley.
Recorded at Centre Sound, Camden.
Reel4Transfer for recovering usable tracks from the Centre Sound tapes – which had suffered deterioration from ‘sticky shed syndrome’ – and transferring them to digital media.
The following day we set off after breakfast on what we thought would be the most difficult part of our journey to Greece. We needed to get across the mountains up into the central part of Yugoslavia and Skopje which was the closest major city to the Greek border. We got a lift quite quickly with a German couple, Ben and his girlfriend Utie in a lovely VW campervan. They also had a huge Great Dane, Sara. We stayed with them all day and continued down to Ulcinje which is the southernmost point of the country, bordering Albania which at that time was closed off to westerners. We ended up staying the night with them as they were so friendly. Drinking wine and listening to radio Luxembourg around a fire pit. We had a shock though when we woke up the following morning to find we were on a nudist beach! For two innocent lasses from Yorkshire this was fairly mind boggling!
The road into Ulcinje
We left Ben in the afternoon to find out about buses to Skopje and discovered that the next one was at 6pm. Whilst waiting for the bus we hunted for a bank (more difficult than you’d imagine) to get some currency for the journey. It was around £5 for the two of us. We came across some young locals who were keen to practice their English with us and stayed with us all afternoon even waving us off when the bus departed .
Carpet seller, Ulcinje
The bus journey was hell (though a couple of years later I would discover an even more hellish journey). We kept being badgered to give up our seats, but we took no notice. We’d paid for seats and we were keeping them. It was an 11 hour journey and although it was a luxury coach, sitting all that time was not fun. We arrived stiff and cramped and tired at 5:30am on a very dull, grey day. A fortnight after leaving home.
After finding a bakery open and buying fresh bread (the only time to eat it as later it became as hard as hell), we followed signposts to the road leading to the Greek border. It was a fair distance and we got a few odd looks from people on the way. We did manage to get a lift quite quickly though he wasn’t going all the way to the border and traffic on that road was very light with pretty much only an odd tractor every half hour. We eventually reached the border 6 hours later where we took advantage of the facilities to get washed and comb our hair after the unsettled night, find biscuits and milk before crossing the ‘no-mans land’ to reach the other border post.
With luck we spotted a car with a GB sticker so quickly raced ahead to try and get through the border before them so we could try and get a lift. And with more luck it stopped for us. Three lads from one of the home counties who happily agreed to take us to Thessaloniki and a camp site there. It was actually so nice to have someone to speak English with after two weeks. We pitched our tent close to the boys and spent several days there. It was a lively camp site with fire pits and lots of music (Woodstock mainly – this was 1971 after all) and we spent our days on the beach or going into Thess and walking around. There was an International Fair on whilst we were there so it was very busy. One downside was that I got very badly bitten by mosquitos which made me feel quite ill.
Me in Thessaloniki
For some reason we made the (bad) decision to head over to Istanbul rather than down to the Greek islands. So after saying our farewells to the Brits who were heading homewards we continued our hitchhiking journey on the road to Kavala.
One of David’s more recent songs, first written in 2016 though it took two years to complete.
(Note to anyone looking at this post in the Reader or on a phone you may need to visit the actual site to be able to view and listen to the music track)
Lyrics
Sea Fret
Black cat in my path today / Black news chilled me to the marrow
Black cloud standing in my way / Two birds of prey and one for sorrow
A little chaos flown from my life / Too late to hope for one last summer
A sea fret hides the harbour / A cold wind blows off the sea
You lie somewhere I’ll never find you / And no-one’s lying next to me
And surely these are not the places / That we were meant to be
Long ago you blew into my life / Like a friendly hurricane
Near misses, French kisses / Then you’d be gone again
Till later you’d drop by / And break my heart again
Sometimes I was sure I loved you
Sometimes I even think that you loved me
But there was always something else
Somewhere else you had to be
Always something in the way / Someone else you had to see
Though I always knew we’d drive each other crazy
My fevered heart still hoped someday
I’d find you waiting round the corner
For someone I hoped some day to be
Waiting there for someone / I never could quite be
Mist rolls up the mountain / A cold wind blows off the sea
There’s no ledge for us to meet on / And no-one’s lying next to me
And surely these are not the places / That we were meant to be
TRAVEL WORDS 