And dream of sheep

Except I didn’t. Anyone who knows anything about me knows about my thing with Kate Bush. I know. We don’t talk about it, but it’s always been there. Ever since I saw her in Laura Ashley in Bath with her mum, probably. I mean, it probably was her. It was like the

I mean, ANYONE would. Even the Pope would, probably.
I mean, ANYONE would. Even the Pope would, probably.

time I saw Gerry Halliwell walking down the street with her mum in Berkhamstead, where Ed Reardon lives. I didn’t know it was Gerry Halliwell. She wasn’t particularly good looking or anything, and it was just when the Spice Girls were starting to be famous. There was something about her. But nothing like there was something about Kate Bush.

I really, really wanted to meet Kate Bush. Who wouldn’t? Although, as someone collapsed laughing on a beach in Greece once when I said that, as I stole her justified incredulity and put her words in Poppy’s mouth in Not Your Heart Away, ‘Meet her? MEET her? You mean shag her!?”

Well, um. sort of. Obviously. Ok, yes then. I really, really, wanted to do that. Who wouldn’t? As they used to say at the time, one in Kate Bush is worth two in the hand.

All this remembered shabbiness was prompted by talking about dreams. My best worst one ever was about Kate Bush. I’d gone home to my flat with someone nice I’d only just met and we went to bed. And later I dreamed.

I dreamed I’d gone home with Kate Bush, who’d quite sensibly said I was a bit pissed and she wanted it to be special so we’d both remember it. Someone actually did say that once, and it was. I won’t mention her name in case her husband reads this. Sort of sorry about that. But not really. But it was, anyway. Back with Kate the upshot was no go then, but in the morning. I said, as people did at that Kronenbourg 1664-fueled time, no, wait, that’s not fair, you have to. It’s practically the law. Kate acted as if, like most girls then, she’d heard this one before. She wasn’t going to be swayed on that one. In the morning.

As day follows night, the morning came. I woke up. The other side of the duvet is turned back. The other side of the bed is still warm. I can hear her in the bathroom, getting ready and this is going to be so utterly, utterly mega and the door opens and the poor girl I’d taken home is greeted as she walks through the doorway into my bedroom with the words….

“But you’re not Kate Bush.”

Look. I’m sorry. It could have happened to anyone. I didn’t mean anything bad. No, wait, look, I’ve got some croissants, I think…..

And so on. And utterly tragically, that’s a true story.

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2 thoughts on “And dream of sheep”

  1. Gerry Halliwell, both my Mum and I met her in St tropez and Salon de Provence at the end of the Spice Girls fame. Gerry was very very nice, especially to my Mum who had a dog like she did, a Bisson and they chatted like old friends. the advantage was that my Mum had no idea who she was, the beauty of not having English TV in France where we lived at the time. So 6 or is 7 degrees to Kevin Bacon becomes one (or is it two?) to Gerry Halliwell

    1. If Kate Bush had been at Kingdown, being the same age and all, she’d have wanted to be in our band. Then a couple of years later, she’d have left and gone solo because she was more awesome.

      I would also like to add that I’ve said worse.

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