Burt Bacharach is the Zenith

When Burt Bacharach first asked me to play the drums for him I was unable to answer for a few moments, being so shocked at the proposal. I stood in the phone box with the receiver resting against my cheek staring out at the field in disbelief.
'Eh, hello? Drums?' asked a small electronic copy of Bacharach's voice.
Still I couldn't respond. You have to understand what a long-awaited call this was, in order to deal with the situation my mind first had to go on a little journey. It wandered out into the field beyond the hedge. I could see myself lilting around the meadow to the sounds of Bacharach's most indelible tune - '(They Long to Be) Close to You'. I looked angelic, beautiful, larger than life. I picked up a snare and stick previously hidden by the tall grass and started to tap out a rhythm. As soon as the stick hit the snare skin a panorama of Alpine mountains erupted all around the field transforming it to the floor of an immense valley. Huge snow capped peaks now towered all around me as I lilted around the grass, tapping out the rhythm of Bacharach. The melody lurched and then burst into the blasting passion of 'Make it Easy on Yourself'. I could see myself screaming the lyrics up into the chilly mountain air, bliss surging through every nerve, capillary and vessel in my body. The notes thundered around the valley, calling animals from every direction. They raced down towards me and within moments I was surrounded by mountain cats, arctic foxes, hare, eagles, hedgehogs and many more hilly beings. The scene was ecstatic, ecstatic, ecstatic and I was utterly lost within it.
And then I heard the voice of God.
Calling from the rock itself.

'Will you play the drums or no?'

'Yes! Oh yes I will!' I screamed and felt myself rushing back into the reality of the phone box.
'That's great to hear,' replied Bacharach. 'We start rehearsing in May.'
'I'm already rehearsing!' I shouted into the wrong end of the phone.
'See you soon,' said God and hung up.
I held the receiver close to my bosom for about an hour, staring out at the meadow which had just been the stage for my most treasured dream. I left the phone box with the biggest smile one could possibly imagine. To find out later that day it had been a hoax conducted by some old school colleagues sent me into the deepest pit of despair out of which to this day I am attempting to escape.


Trains and bloats and planes are passing by
They mean a trip to Paris or Rome
For someone else but not for me
The trains and the boats and planes
Took you away, away from me