You see, until about 18 months ago, I despised Westerns. I hated their lack of action, their lack of entertainment, their lack of, well, anything. In the XboxPS2WiiGameboyN64SuperNintendoSega splurge of an upbringing, I found it hard to believe that anybody would find that utter dribble any good.
Yet, my Mum (as Mums do) would always insist that I was depriving myself of brilliance. And I (as stubborn sons do) ignored her as if she were spouting Satanic text and had her clothes on backwards.
Just as she told me to take my jacket because it looked like rain (and naturally didn't), I got drenched. I got drenched in the world of the Wild West. The world of Clint Eastwood, John Wayne and their über cool nonchalant lives. And I have even gone a step further - I want to MAKE them.
But what I never realised, and will not be bringing it to my Mum's attention (unless one of you lot inform her!), is how often she has been right throughout my life.
Hitchcock? Yawn. (I now own a box-set of his work)
Motown? No thanks. (I now have numerous "Best-of" CDs)
The Beatles? The Eagles? Wearing a hat, scarf and gloves?
I think you get the picture.
I am sure that this sounds familiar to one of you, and my advice (maybe I should practice what I preach) is to listen to your Mum/Dad/Carer/Friend/Neighbor/Stalker/Gardener. Maybe it will benefit you as it has for me.
Hell, last time my Mum made me tidy my room I found twenty quid under my bed. But lets keep that between you and me eh?
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