On self-indulgent nostalgia

Why not? It's my blog!

Actually it is a little more complicated than that. This blog is (largely) about reflection, and the point at which reflection tips into self-indulgent or self-justifying wallowing is not clear.

Just something to contemplate while you listen to Les Paul and Mary Ford's "Meet Mr Callaghan" (c.1957?) There was a feature about Les Paul on BBC4 this evening, and this was the theme I chose (no doubt with total disregard of copyright) for the first film I ever "directed" courtesy of the film society at school, around 1961. The only bit which had any merit at all was the initial titles sequence of a girl (Sandra Whitehead, should you ever google yourself under your maiden name; I directed you in awe, as callow youths did/do at 17...) cycling through the town...

That may be legitimate reminiscence (for me), but it is not in itself "reflection". What is the added value of "reflection"?

Incidentally, the tv remained on as I wrote the above and I looked up to see a tribute to Oliver Postgate. I have enormous affection and respect for his work, and I'm delighted to find an excuse to post a link to him. But that is not reflection, is it? What would need to be added to make it so?