Sometimes it takes a lion

I was 16 when I was first exposed to jazz. I had talked my teachers into sending me to a "Weekend for the Environment" course.

There I met a boy, who used to be a Svensson or Andersson or maybe Larsson, but was now Lion-island.

He had a motorbike, he was fabulous, and much older than I was. What can I say!

Lion-island took me out of the student hostel, and with the help of the fake ID I carried, took me into one of the "in-clubs" (for environmentalists) where jazz was the only item on the menu.

Being born cynical, I found Mr Lion-island just as pretentious as he was. I did like the jazz though. I still do!

Very much so.

Many years later, my father and I found jazz a common ground to get the evil stepmother out of the room.