I have to say that I'm both delighted and touched by the response to the thread. A sincere thanks for all the concern and good wishes. It is sorta like attending my own funeral.

But far from being self-pitying, I have to admit that I'm secretly delighted that I have arrived at this point with the tattered remains of my musical dignity more of less intact. Like they say, when its' time to go, its' time to go.

A particular thanks to Rick and Art and to all of you who promised to celebrate St Paddy's Day and my imminent departure in a suitably rip-roaring alcoholic haze. It is comforting to know that the stage will be in good hands.

Thanks Kat for making sense – more or less – of the song. There are a couple of lines gone awry, so for the sake of accuracy, perhaps I will post the two damaged verses.

And when free lovin' came along
It was good to be alive
For I only put on my trousers twice
In nineteen Sixty-Five.
For I'd met with a Yankee beauty
As obliging as could be
To Tom and Dick and Harry and Joe
And me and Bobby Magee.
Tra la la la la la la to everybody
An' me and Bobby Magee.

And the other one……..

But now there's a gap in East Berlin
Where the wall it used to be
And the mealy-mouthed South Africans
Have set Nelson Mandela free.
Its' like being on the Titanic
And she's barely still afloat
When there's no more Commies left to hate
And the black man's got the vote

Sinsull, thanks for posting The Famous Five. That particular gang were the creation of British childrens' writer, Enid Blyton, a matronly harridan who wrote thousands of works involving horrible snotty middle-class children who spent their time luring ordinary decent criminals – smugglers, spies, secret agents and suchlike- to their doom in bottomless bogs or underground caverns before going home for afternoon tea. They truly were an obnoxious bunch and were the favoured reading of my generation and, sad to say, of later generations. I wrote the song to try to lighten an album which I thought was getting a bit too serious and heavy and, happily, it seemed to strike a common chord on this side of the pond.

I would be delighted, if other Catters wish, to take a ramble down memory lane with a bunch of you to talk of the early days. It would probably require the attentions of a bevy of eagle-eyed censors, but, what the Hell, I'm prepared to give it a shot if I find good company.

Like I said at the start of this thread, it has been a hell of a ride and I have enjoyed every minute of it – even the bad times were good. For the sake of those starting off down a similar road, can I give you a bit of encouragement that comes from my personal experience.

In a way it was the worst thing that could possibly happen, but then, in another way it wasn't. Let me explain.

I had the misfortune to write my most successful song first. It wasn't my best song by any stretch of the imagination, but for some reason it caught the public mood and took off like a runaway fire. Before I knew it, it had been recorded in Ireland, Britain, America, Australia, Germany, Austria, and even some poor lonesome sod up in Iceland took it on. Here I have to hang my head in embarrassed shame and admit to the fact that even James Last and his Orchestra took it to their hearts and put out an instrumental version.

The unfortunate fact was that I had to spend the rest of my songwriting life playing catch-up. I think that I made as good a job of it as I possibly could, but then again, who am I to judge.

But the fact remains that it is ordinary people like you and I who write the songs that can just every once in a while take off and change our lives. It might even end up as your pension plan.

Like we say – in bog latin –around here, "Nolle illegiti carborondum" which loosely translated means "Don't let the bastards grind you down". Keep writing the songs folks. When they work it makes everything worthwhile.

Mickey.