It should have been a strawberries and cream weekend; the Stones play Glastonbury, Lewis was on pole and an English girl makes it through to the second week of Wimbledon.
Now, I have to be honest here and risk losing readers, but firstly I have never rated Elvis or The Rolling Stones. Shortly before their virgin appearance at Pilton I listened to Paul Gambaccini's radio 2 show where he featured all the original versions of the records that the Stones covered in the early days - "You'd Better Move On", "It's All Over Now", etc. Without exception, every one of them was better than the insipid renditions by a band who for me have never really lifted themselves out of the pub circuit. (As for Elvis, just listen to "You Ain't Nothin' But a Hound Dog" by Big Mama Thornton and you may agree)
The internet was abuzz with opinions about the Stones' performance. Many of them agreed with me, even the die hard fans were not impressed and, horror of horrors, some people made dark suggestions that that Keef and Ronnie were being musically "augmented" by other musicians from behind a curtain.
Mick himself kind of croaked his way through the songs. Having personal experience of old rockers who still think they can sing when they reach their fifties, sixties and seventies, I would just say that Rock and Roll is a game for kids. Best leave the business or die young.
I have yet to watch the British Grand Prix, but poor Lewis appears to have had a mishap with tyres. Pirelli are clearly not flavour of the month down in the paddock.
Elsewhere, people have been lining the streets of our Isles to celebrate the contribution of our armed forces to our security and well-being. I salute them. We live freely because, freely, they gave.
So this weekend there have been a lot of bank clerks and council workers donning wellies and seeking nirvana. Of course, on Monday, having been "in touch" with their "real selves" in a field in Somerset, they will be back, making their contribution to the shittyness of our lives.
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