I was reading the Racing Post yesterday as I know all blog visitors do, and there was this piece by Alastair Down, who I like* despite his florid over-description of everything (‘…she has the heart of an angel, the patience of all the saints and the endurance of the pyramids…’**) and, as an aside, almost, to his piece, about going racing in Galway, he mentioned that himself and toff trainer John Gosden had been to see Leonard Cohen, of whom Gosden is (amazingly) a fan. Alastair Down has seen Cohen three times in recent years, and what I learned was this: Cohen is permanently on the road, (this is how it is that Alastair Down could repeatedly catch his gigs), he is permanently on the road because he has lost his life savings, and pension, of $5 million to the worldwide financial crisis etc. What a fucking liberty; but on the other hand, isn’t this really how it should be? It’s almost a gift from the gods to orchestrate a set of circumstances whereby fans get to see Leonard Cohen perform out his last days, like it or not. Leonard Cohen is over seventy year’s old, and there are not many Canadians for whom you would say Hurrah to that. I used lyrics from this song below in the first story I ever wrote (Swimming, from It Cracks Like Breaking Skin); I remember standing up to read it out in front of class at Art School, and I remember his lines, which were probably the best bit of it, getting the first laugh. Todo El Mundo, baby.
* always smoking B&H, looks knackered, but happy, excellent presenter of C4 Racing, adores horses, most likely not long for this world.
** for the info of makemeadiva: verbatim [smiley here].