Formalism? Eclecticism? No! Just plain progressive music

 

    In 1976, my younger brother and I attended a private school in London. London, Ontario, that is. Regrettably, my pointing this out does remove a certain degree of prestige to the unfolding scene, and I apologize for this.

To this day, when I recount this period of my youth, people cut me off before letting me finish the sentence. They jump to the conclusion that I spent a year across the pond. They assume that I wandered on Oxford’s hallowed grounds. They want to know if the fish and chips are overrated. Is the Queen just someone taking advantage of an archaic and obsolete system devised to help keep the great unwashed in their place or is it just a well-thought-out public relations scheme designed to lure in more tourists?

 

… Sigh!

 

When I eventually manage to get a word in edgewise and point out that the city is in the province of Ontario, excitement turn to disappointment.

London’s strong suits were (and probably continue to be) education & medical research. It was an ideal place to learn, for there were very few distractions, as we quickly found out.
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Though the city borrowed its big brother’s name, it had clearly failed to capture its energy. There were a couple of movie theatres, and only one was decent. The restaurants and most everything else shut down at suppertime. One pinball parlour prevented us from going stir crazy. Living, or more likely, existing in this city was not unlike watching paint dry.
 
Some will point out that we were only there to study and get good grades. One can also argue the fact that “All work and no play make Jack a freaking dull boy.”