What gave me a jolt about Cassidy’s demise is it seems uncomfortably close to my generation — although I was also surprised to find out that, at 67, he was a good 15 years older than me.
But I think my subconscious response was due to his influence — and that of archrival Donny Osmond — which was pretty much everywhere among people I knew in our part of London in the early ’70s. All the girls at primary school were either Cassidy or Osmond fans. Top of The Pops every Thursday night was full of their stuff; bedroom walls were covered by posters of them.
This adoration by fans was pretty pervasive. But I am proud to say that, even at such a tender age, my liking was more for the "glam rock" bands, including Slade, T. Rex and Wizzard. I especially couldn’t stand Donny Osmond. Which makes what I’m about to tell you even more mortifying.
With Cassidy’s death the years flew back to possibly one of the most embarrassing moments of my life (to date). Something so cringeworthy that even at the age of 8 I was aware how awful it was and that I hated it. The object in question remains one of my biggest fashion disasters ever — and let me tell you there’s been quite a few.
Possibly inspired by my utterly humiliating performance before the family on Christmas Day 1972 of Little Jimmy Osmond’s awful but then No1 hit Long-Haired Lover from Liverpool — arguably a better choice for a 7-year-old than Chuck Berry’s My Ding-A-Ling at No2 — my grandmother went shopping.
Two months later, on my 8th birthday, I excitedly unwrapped my present. And there it was — a red T-shirt with a cap-wearing Donny Osmond emblazoned across its front. She had obviously, and terribly, been under the influence of some mind-bending drugs that gave her the impression I was an Osmonds fan.
The cold weather was great, but once summer arrived I was forced to wear the shirt. And the evidence still exists in a grainy, faded standard-8 movie film of our Easter 1973 holiday by the beach in Somerset, in which my older brother Keith and I star, sporting school socks and sandals to boot.
That is my abiding memory of the David Cassidy era, even though it features Donny Osmond. And now, as I come out shamefacedly from under my desk, I think you all owe it to me to share your most embarrassing moments.
I won’t let them slip — promise.
Festive gobbledygook
You’d think I could type "gobbledygook" in my sleep now, the number of times I’ve done it in recent days. But my index fingers still get caught up somewhere between the "d", "y" and "g".
Anyway, David Harrowfield, of Oamaru, wants to know what kind of mind could create the words "Merry Fridgemas" for a major retailer and also the myriad delights of sausage tinsel.
"I feel sorry for young people growing up and being subjected to such rubbish," he says.
And what’s with this upside-down Christmas tree thing? Next thing we know there’ll be upside-down chimneys.
Get in touch
PAUL GORMAN
Telephone: (03) 479-3519
email: whatswiththat@odt.co.nz
Get in touch
PAUL GORMAN
Telephone: (03) 479-3519
email: whatswiththat@odt.co.nz