Garth Dutton

Accompanist – A Song

The song “Accompanist” is about a sexual relationship broken down, but the both of us continued performing as a duo because of ongoing committments at music venues.

Eventually it got too much and I set out to travel to Johannesburg via Portugal. I called it quits at Dover in heavy snow, as I didn’t have adequate winter clothing for such a journey.

Even though I wrote this song a long time ago, I still perform it as this song means a lot to me.

Accompanist
© Garth Dutton, 1971.

London Town, snowflakes are falling,
and in my heart the highway’s calling,
to Johannesburg, for there’s someone there who’d want me.
from the letters she writes
I know she has a place in her heart for me,

But tonight you’ll sing, I’ll play guitar,
and it’ll still feel good, for still friends we are.
At some pub downtown, friendly atmosphere,
and your lovely voice, soft and sweet and clear.
Everyone just stops and listens.

Then I’ll take you home, but there’ll be no after
beyond the coffee cups and the talk and laughter.
You’re afraid to walk late at night from the station,
and your company is a gift and consolation,
for loneliness is London’s desolation.

But we’ll be alright when we see the morning,
picture postcard white in clear bright dawning.
Cold dark night, clear bright morning.
Cold dark night, clear bright morning.

Tags: dover, garth dutton, johannesburg, london, portugal, song, songwriter, songwriting, winter

My Red Jumper – A Story

Here’s another short story which was written as homework for the Kensington & Norwood Writers Group. It’s called “My Red Jumper”.

My Red Jumper
© Garth Dutton 2007

I used to own a thick red jumper once, when I was living for two winters in London. It became a sort of ‘trade mark’ for me. I must have looked a real picture with it, plus my grey corduroy trousers and fawn desert boots. I had long blonde hair then, too, as it was the ‘hippy era’.

I used to share a large flat with an American hippy of Danish descent, two South African lads from Johannesburg, and a white lad from Zambia. The place was wall to wall beds. The flat was in Pennywern Road, just around the corner from Earls Court Station. (The area has long since been converted into hotels.)

We all used to drink at ‘Japie Corner’ in the Kings Head Pub , which was on the opposite side of Earls Court Road. On our way home we would often stop for a coffee at the “Café de Wheels” near the station. Or we would buy chestnuts from the man with the brazier there, too. (The “Café de Wheels” was similar to Adelaide’s pie carts, but mostly served coffee, tea and sandwiches.) I can still remember brushing the winter night’s snowflakes off the shoulders of my red jumper whilst waiting for my coffee.

I suppose we all have fond memories of various articles of clothing we have owned in our lives. Donovan even wrote a song called “I Love My Shirt.”

Tags: author, garth dutton, london, short story, writer, Writing