A nineteenth archival element of the year.

Archival remnant no 19. Catalogue no MX752b

There are four songs from foreign lands.

They are significant because they stand out against the surroundings where they were heard.

And though in each case they were songs he knew, they surprised him in that he just didn’t expect to hear them then and there.

And now, whenever he hears them again he IS then and there, in unlikely circumstances.

Three he can remember the song.

One he can only remember the singer.

Bob Dylan.

It was late spring, early summer on a small island in the Aegean Sea.

He was walking along the harbour wall of a small port. A boat was moored that had recently arrived from Turkey laden with watermelon.

The rest of the harbour was home to local fishing boats.

And one, very incongruous yacht.

Suddenly Bob started singing, not live of course (boat sound system), and his voice drifted over the watermelon into the Grecian sky.

Lay Lay Lady?

Maybe.

One of the other three was at the Yugoslavian (as it was then) border, about 2am in the morning and it woke him from uncomfortable sleep.

He was on a bus and when he had fallen asleep he had been in the forest.

He opened his eyes and the glare of searchlights filled the night as they bounced angrily of concrete walls and barriers.

There were uniformed soldiers running, guns levelled and shouts.

The Eagles – Hotel California. (Bus cassette player)

And then there was the market in Columbia.

Daytime.

He looked out of place; the only white skin for miles.

He was waiting for a bus, killing time.

People constantly barged into him, deliberately.

He felt very far from where he possibly should be.

Pink Floyd, Brick In The Wall (stallholder’s radio).