Fog On The Tyne

I used to whistle this song sitting on the back of my dad’s bicycle. I remember being told to sit up straight and smile, otherwise I’d look like I was being kidnapped. A fairly reasonable concern, I suppose, but a funny instruction to give a child enjoying a bike ride. It was on these rides and drives home from football practice that I heard his stories about going to see Lindisfarne play in Newcastle at Christmas. I like that the song connects two different childhoods: his memories of being a boy going to gigs and mine of sitting on the back of his bicycle, singing along. Somehow, a song has become a little family heirloom, carrying memories that existed long before I did.