Christine's Weekend Write-in Podcasts

An Hour of Late Night Guitar

(Episode Three: January 2019) (prompt: 'late')

How long had they owned this CD? A lifetime, maybe two? When Christine and Kanute thought about it, they were never able to agree on where or when they'd first heard a sampling and fallen in love with it. Not in their Western Australia years; that much they were sure about. Didn't have any recording/replay device back then. Needed one badly, given lousy TV reception and mainly crackly racket their transistor radio made. Little improvement from the large antique radio in its ornate timber home either, due to the weakest signals local radio stations produced. Not too much choice out in the bush.

In their earliest milking years, after unexpectedly becoming dairy farmers, they milked to the rhythm from their old-time radio, rescued at one of many clearing sales they attended in those earliest penny-pinching farming days. It could rap out a beat as loud as any boombox yet to hit Australia's market. Both agreed this CD was far too young to have ever played in their dairy. No forgetting how the cows favourite 'milking' music was easy-listening kind. Particularly successful compositions came from the Beatles; and Seekers; and piano concertos, strangely enough.

"Always quieter as if rhythmic music soothed them," Christine reminisced.

"Always more milk, as well, when music stimulated their milk ducts as well as soothing their ears!"

"ALWAYS the accountant, adding up the sums." Christine laughed but couldn't help a mental side-step. A mathematician and a wordsmith... strange bedfellows to become dairy farmers. She shook her mind back into the present time. "We'll never know for sure how they would have liked that LATE NIGHT GUITAR'S soothing sounds."

"True." Kanute tipped his head. "Do we still have it?" And when Christine nodded, her eyes lighting up with fond memory, a sudden lift of his head saw him suddenly impatient to hear those familiar chords again.

Christine fossicked through their several CD holders, slowing down as she read out names of a few golden oldies - mementos framed in time - from joyous to broken-hearted, and every nuance in between. Sharing such a long lifetime tended to do that. Both sets of eyes went dreamy; drifting away to one side as those years rolled back.

"Here!" she said. "Still in its slip-cover." As she began reading its list of contents, she continued, "Ahh but these were gorgeous even in full daylight." Her voice became wistful. "But at night, when all our chores were done, kids in bed fast asleep? That was their time of a special magic."

"And when you couldn't sleep, I remember hearing music coming softly from our Lounge. And I'd turn over and fall right back to dreamland. I knew this was an 'alone' time you treasured, late at night, or sometimes wee small hours of morning. You'd listen, sometimes cry a little... and be ready to rest yourself again."

Once again Christine's eyes filled with tears reading the names. Eighteen of the best. She still couldn't choose a stand-out favourite from the rest. In her head, the words to these guitar instrumentals flowed.

As ever.

** Author's Note: There's been a production hiccough due to Christmas and New Year, so the e-magazine and transcripts are not yet up on the site - BUT - the podcasts are. Link here and in comments below in case this one doesn't work - it's called

Episode 3:
Morning, Music, Memories, Mystics and Mayhem

and the link is - https://weekendwritein.wordpress.com/?fbclid=IwAR2JketZ5ZpRUnGiTOiWE-PJ665B4J9JlU3_StDeaLgl9lXggXYxNsotkQo