We'll March Through March

Memory is a slippery fish.

Every year when March comes around I remember a song I wrote long ago. Really long ago. So long ago I have no recording of it. Maybe there’s a live video somewhere (when did phones start being video cameras?) or an old demo on some now defunct format (what is a minidisc? did i have one?). Yet this specific song is lodged safely in the back of my head, waiting for the month of March so I can be reminded of it once more. The opening line goes:

Like a giraffe with a very long neck it’s hard to get up when you fall

It occurs to me that in my first few years as a singer-songwriter — including much of my first album — I was inadvertently writing children’s songs…

The premise of the song was only a little more grown-up:

Oh let March pass quick so April can be here

I’d love to claim all the intentional symbolism of the changing seasons. The truth is I was in a long distance relationship at the time and surviving the lonely weeks until the next reunion was my biggest concern.

The reason the song is still stuck in my head is the bridge. That’s the part that traditionally comes between the second chorus and the third verse. God knows where I put it. But it was undeniably catchy:

We’ll march through March
We’ll march through March
We’ll march through March
We’ll march through March
We’ll march through March
We’ll march through March

It’s a good mantra for the month. You’re welcome to appropriate it.

For the backstory of this motion picture head back to January! https://lailarad.substack.com/p/50

I was reminded of another old song I wrote recently. Last month we spent a beautiful week in Andalucía in Spain, including a day at The Alhambra. I’d been there once before, almost exactly two decades ago. It was my first ever solo trip, staying in youth hostels, living off gazpacho, pre-smart phones, wonderfully disconnected. In Granada I befriended a beautiful Australian artist called Carla. She had long blonde hair and wrote out all the verses of Joni Mitchell’s Cactus Tree for me on a postcard she had painted. While she was busy being free…

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Speaking of Joni, I should probably mention that my paid subscribers received a juicy Valentine’s Day cover of You Turn Me On (I’m A Radio)…

(Yes, this is my attempt to Court & Spark you…)

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Anyhow, back to the past. Twenty years ago I spent a day wandering around the wonder that is The Alhambra. It was August and extremely hot. I remember not having enough water with me. Perhaps this added to the delirious state in which I walked through the gardens. I say delirious because either I was not in my right mind, or memory is a very slippery fish. It was August, you see. High temperatures and high season. There must have been throngs of tourists swarming around. Even now in February it was at capacity. Queues and crowds, tour groups and selfie sticks. Yet in my hazy recollections of that solo visit to The Alhambra I was there all alone. Alone enough to sit down and write a song! I really don’t remember another soul. I remember solitude, tranquility and silence. I had the Nasarid Palaces all to myself. This can’t possibly be true! Was I in my own world to the extent that I didn’t notice the masses? Or has time slowly erased them from my memory, leaving only those most vivid mirages of tiled floors and marble fountains?

I'm writing in the garden at number 24
I got to 37 but I don’t want to leave the palace door
Where silent water lines the floor
And all my thoughts have been thought before

The rest of the lyrics are even more embarrassing, with far too many Spanish rhymes — Alhambra / Sombra / Sierra Navada / Granada — but I do love the image of my younger self writing in a notebook in the shade of an orange tree, so busy being free.

This time around I was more preoccupied with the fact that strollers are not allowed in the palace and if we walked at our toddler’s pace we’d literally never leave the palace door. My arms hurt for the rest of the day, but it was worth it. “Look at this magical place Milo, this is where Babar and Celeste live!”

I just realised there’s only one letter difference between place and palace.

And there’s only one month between winter and spring…

We’ll march through March!

Lail x

p.s. If you feel like paying for the pleasure of these Foggy Notions, I won’t be the one to stand in your way… In fact, I’ll make it really easy for you…

Alhambra / Sombra / Sierra Navada / Granada