Plenty old enough to appreciate decent moosic

Just for the record (boom-boom) I was only 13 years old in 1970!

Cheers,

Tim

Ooh, fighting words.

When we first moved into a posh new council house in 1964, the next door neighbour's son played the Animals over and over.

I think at the time, it was the longest single ever played on radio!

Anyway, ever budding guitarist learns to play that, even today. I know I still play it!

And as for Led Zeppelin's Whole lotta love being the best, I ain't even going there.

I guess that if you really like the original version Mike @Newportnobby , a cover version may or may not work for you. My very first single was "House of the Rising Sun" by Frijid Pink and I had never heard The Animal's version. Likewise, I had CCS's version of "Whole Lotta Love" as a single before I heard Led Zeppelin's original version and for a while preferred it! This might split divisions but I thought it was pretty good. Here is Gov't Mule's cover of Fleetwood Mac's "Gold Dust Woman", featuring Grace Potter...

https://youtu.be/A13tUxH09SI?feature=shared

Not so sure about Grace Potter's other work though.

Cheers,

Tim

As Sylvia stood amidst the polished mahogany shelves with their orderly lines of varicoloured books, her heart fluttered like a fragile moth drawn to the flickering flame of destiny. The library held secrets—state and personal. She glanced at Jeremy, his uniform crisp, his gaze steady. Seemingly a stranger, yet intuition told her, already not quite, their destinies intertwined by tradition, duty, and perhaps something more intimate.

Sylvia's hope bloomed like the roses in the garden beyond. She yearned for love—a love that transcended family customs and annual affirmations. Jeremy's presence had ignited a spark within her, a longing for the same profound partnership that her parents shared, one that went beyond customary aristocratic expectations.

The weight of tradition pressed upon her youthful shoulders, but anticipation danced in her dark brown eyes. What lay beyond? What adventures awaited her once she completed her education in Switzerland? Sylvia's mind raced, eager to explore the wide world.

The annual affirmations hung on a delicate thread. Would Jeremy agree? Would their hearts align? Sylvia feared rejection—the unravelling of dreams woven over the years to come. And yet, she could not help but steal glances at him, wondering if he felt the same magnetic pull that tugged at her excited heart.

Lady Isadora's words echoed in Sylvia's ears. "The 'Great and the Good' as well as the 'Not so Good and not so Great'!" What challenges awaited? Sylvia's pulse quickened; her shoulders straightened. She would be ready—whatever the future bought them, together or apart.

Sir George's assessment of Jeremy settled upon her. A naval officer with duties and capabilities, yes, but, she felt, dreams too. He stood before her as something more personal—a promise of shared sunsets and whispered confidences, of stolen moments to come, of grown-up freedoms and drawn-out kisses.

She vowed to honour tradition, complete her education, and wait for Jeremy. Her heart whispered, 'Patience, my dear.' She would, she asserted, learn, grow, and become the refined, capable woman worthy of his love. Her godparents bore solemn witness to her eager commitment.

Zuma and Harvest are my two favourite Neil
Young albums.

Interesting, Tim @Moonglum 
That's one of my all time favourite Neil Young tracks. It's different but, as I often say about music, unless it's a radically different version, I always prefer the 'originals'..
Witness 'House of the rising sun' from the Animals to the Frijid Pink effort, and Melanie's 'Ruby Tuesday' as opposed to the Stones

Nice choice Tim

Here is 17 minutes of guitar heaven from the Dave Matthews Band featuring Warren Haynes (Gov't Mule and The Allman Brothers) performing Neil Young's "Cortez the Killer"...

https://youtu.be/lYrD2SthaMU?feature=shared

Mick @Newportnobby might like this as well as John @Trainfish .

Cheers,

Tim

And thus, Sylvia had found herself caught in the tumultuous transformation from girlhood crush to something far more profound. Jeremy stirred emotions that defied easy categorisation. It was a symphony—an intricate blend of intense longing, burning curiosity, and anxious vulnerability—that played within her heart. As she pondered the depth of their connection, she wondered if the universe itself had conspired to weave their paths together, entangling fate and desire in a tango of ever-increasing passion.

In the quiet corners of her Castle bedroom, logs crackling in the hearth, Sylvia traced delicate patterns on her décolletage. The memory of that very first evening resurfaced. Isabella had remained her beloved Moon Muse until the older girl's graduation at eighteen. But by then, there was Jeremy—the dashing young naval officer—who had suddenly and irrevocably etched himself upon her soul in lines of fire.

From the moment he appeared in her life, everything changed. His presence transformed her, leaving an indelible imprint. With each subsequent meeting, cosmic threads entwined, thickened, pulling Sylvia and Jeremy ever more strongly toward a shared destiny—a story woven in increasing glances, fuelled by untameable fantasies.

Sylvia closed her eyes, allowing memory's gentle tide to carry her back to the Trevelver's Chelsea townhouse library. The mahogany shelves stood tall, rows of polished wood. Jeremy, resolute and alert, had been by her side—the promise of something more.

Lady Isadora, her noble bearing softened by affection, had addressed them. "Jeremy", she began, "by Trevelver family custom, at your respective ages, you and Sylvia are considered adults."

Sylvia's heart fluttered. The weight of tradition pressed upon her—Lost Atlantis, ancient customs. She wondered what lay hidden in those words.

"Yet," Lady Isadora continued, "tradition dictates that your relationship must be mutually agreed upon, with annual affirmations until you both decide, of your free will, to marry according to contemporary custom."

Jeremy's nod held understanding. The past and the present converged—a dance of duty and desire.

"But", Lady Isadora's voice softened, "for Sylvia, marriage cannot occur before her nineteenth birthday and the end of her formal education."

Sylvia's eyes widened. "My education?"

"Yes", Lady Isadora affirmed. "You must first complete your formal education. Your mother insists. After boarding school, a year at the same Swiss French finishing school she attended."

Sylvia's heart quickened. The world beyond England beckoned, and education was her key.

"The Institut Alpin Videmanette", Lady Isadora continued, "nestled in the heart of the Swiss Alps, in Rougemont, Vaud."

Sylvia envisioned marble staircases, parquet floors, gilded mirrors, and oriental carpets—a place where refinement bloomed.

"My dear", Lady Isadora's eyes sparkled. The I.A.V. forgoes last names entirely; you will be judged for yourself alone. There you'll learn the skills, social graces, and cultural refinement necessary for social success, including deportment, etiquette, foreign languages, and cultural awareness. Etiquette is not something you learn for yourself", Lady Isadora continued. "It's a choreography worthy of both aesthetic and moral attention that you perform for others."

Sylvia nodded. Etiquette, yes. A necessary skill, indeed.

"For", her godmother added, her smile turning mischievous, "as a sophisticated lady, you must be as ready to deal with the 'Great and the Good' as the 'Not so Good and not so Great'! While there are unspoken rules in life", she stated, with a grin, "our success is based, at least a little bit, on how much and when we violate them."

Sylvia chuckled. "I shall do my best, Lady Isadora."

Sir George leaned in. "We have every confidence that you will, dear Sylvie. While manners do not constitute virtue, they do imitate virtue's outward appearance."

Sylvia nodded, feeling the weight of tradition—the dance of etiquette and morality.

"You have already learned much from your mother regarding household administration, my dear," Lady Isadora continued.

Sylvia nodded. Her mother's lessons—the intricacies of running a household—were etched in her memory.

"Such as the ten functions of a household", Lady Isadora said. "Security, groundskeeping, and more."

Sylvia's gaze shifted to the window, imagining the castle's grounds—their secrets and their stories.

"But", Lady Isadora continued, "as you have also learned, such matters are best left to the Castle's Head Butler and the Housekeeper."

Sylvia nodded again. The castle—the Trevelver's ancestral home—held its own rhythm, its own caretakers.

"However", Lady Isadora sighed, "understanding the twenty-five levels of peerage in the United Kingdom is another matter entirely."

Sylvia's brow furrowed. Peerage—the intricate web of titles, privileges, and social hierarchy.

"It's not just about names", her godmother continued. "It's about understanding the nuances—the obligations, the expectations."

Sylvia wondered how these layers of society would shape her future.

Sir George then stepped forward, nodding his thanks to Lady Isadora. His gaze assessed Jeremy—a naval officer, someone for whom duty was at the core of his being.

"Young man", Sir George addressed Jeremy, "as a naval officer seconded to Admiral Tregowan, your path is rigorous. Royal Navy training, Royal Marine Commandos, and passing out as a pilot in the Fleet Air Arm."

Jeremy squared his shoulders. "I'm ready for the challenges, sir."

"That's good to hear", Sir George said. "You have a very demanding schedule ahead of you, but one that I am confident you will excel in."

As Sir George spoke, Lady Isadora leaned closer to Sylvia. "Remember, my dear", her voice a soft murmur. "Because of Jeremy's demanding duties, your times together will, of necessity, be limited."

Sylvia nodded, her pulse quickening.

"But", Lady Isadora continued, "Lord Tregowan has assured us that, wherever operationally possible, he will grant Jeremy leave during your school holidays—especially at Christmas and New Year."

Sylvia's heart beat with anticipation. Love, duty, and destiny converged—their paths woven together.

And so, amidst the scent of old tomes and the promise of futures entwined, Jeremy and Sylvia embarked on their life's journey—one that would test their hearts, honour tradition, and she dared hope, perhaps lead them to the magic that Sir George spoke of: the magic of love.