Not much in the way of music on this blog recently, so, as a seasonal offering, I give you Vashti Bunyan’s Rose Hip November (or, in fact, about two thirds of it – don’t know why it’s been truncated by the director of this YouTube clip). The autumnal pictures that accompany it seem to be from Victoria (Canada, I think, rather than Australia or, for that matter, Victoria Station).
(If anyone would like some practical tips as to what to do with rosehips in November, by the way, may I point you in the direction of that excellent and instructive blog The Wartime Housewife – Hedgerow happiness 1).
My own memories of Rosehip Syrup are as the main, indeed almost the only weapon, in my mother’s medicinal armoury. Cough – Rosehip Syrup. Cold – Rosehip Syrup. Broken arm – Rosehip Syrup (I exaggerate slightly here).
I saw a bottle of the stuff in a chemists a while ago and thought about buying it for nostalgic reasons, but was mindful of how the imaginative and excitable American rock critic Lester Bangs had become addicted to cough medicine and came to a sticky end as a result. But, perhaps, it wasn’t actually Rosehip Syrup that was his undoing.