Sage-like words from Jonathan Livingston Seagull, a copy of which adorned the bookshelf of every girl I ever wanted in 1972, and a few rather fey young men:
You will begin to touch heaven, Jonathan, in the moment that you touch perfect speed. And that isn’t flying a thousand miles an hour, or a million, or flying at the speed of light. Because any number is a limit, and perfection doesn’t have limits. Perfect speed, my son, is being there.”
“To fly as fast as thought, to anywhere that is,” he said,”you must begin by knowing that you have already arrived…”
Yes, erm Glasshopper.
I have a PhD in Jethro Tull. I demanded that Mrs Weasel, who already has a PhD in something a bit more useful, at least get GCSE Tull before she hitched up with me. After all, what else would there be to talk about for the next fifty years?
This is a track from the Jethro Tull Album that is my all-time favourite. It's the second Tull album; they had money, a good producer and plenty of energy and Ian Anderson was by that time assuming the character of that tatterdemalion who eventually became Aqualung.
Stand Up eventually went to the top of the British and American album charts, at a time when their rivals for the top five included the Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and Blind Faith.
I will leave you with more hippie wisdom, this time from the immortal Danny the Dealer in Withnail:
If you're hanging on to a rising balloon, you're presented with a difficult decision — let go before it's too late or hang on and keep getting higher, posing the question: how long can you keep a grip on the rope? They're selling hippie wigs in Woolworth's, man. The greatest decade in the history of mankind is over. And as Presuming Ed here has so consistently pointed out, we have failed to paint it black.