When I was very little my Dad had a Nancy Sinatra record... you all know who she is, right? Boots of the sauntering variety? Bouncy hair, enviable thighs? Famous Daddy? Yeah, her. Anyway – Dad had a Greatest Hits LP and one of my earliest memories is a strange fascination with the cover of the record. Here it is, for your viewing pleasure:
Now, I’ll bet it’s been at least 25 years since I heard that track, but I’ll tell you – I was instantly back to our house in 1982. The 6 year old me is playing innocently playing Yahtzee on the mustard yellow carpet of the living room floor, and the minute that record comes on I’m seeing spooky shapes in the effing spider plants which hang from macramé plant holders in front of the bay window. Christ knows what is underneath the dining room table and I'm terrified.
I’m not kidding; abso-freakin’-lutely shiteypants terrified. Like... can't-turn-my-back-to-exit-the-room-I'll-go-out-backwards-instead terrified. Not-going-into-the-kitchen-by-myself-in-the-middle-of-the-day terrified. Don't-linger-at-the-foot-of-the-bed-it'll-grab-your-ankles-and-pull-you-under terrified. Not-even-admitting-to-my-Dad-until-28-years-later-on-my-blog-I'll-just-hide-under-the-covers-whimpering-instead terrified.
Terr. Riff. Eyed! Is it just me?!
What kind of unearthly creature wears boots like that, I ask you? One who TOTALLY EATS PEOPLE, for sure. Eats little blonde girls, its grotesque figure stomping up driveways knocking banana seat bikes off their kickstands JUST BECAUSE. Thumping closer and closer to MY FRONT DOOR to the exact beat of that song. No cautionary “FEE, FI, FO, FUM’s” offered here, no siree... and don’t even think about trying to hide; that chintzy sofa ain’t gonna protect you now, kiddo, no matter how many 4-of-a-kinds you rolled that afternoon.
GAH! I'm a nervous wreck! And seriously considering sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs tonight.