Me – Elton John

My journey to reading Elton John’s autobiography Me was longer than for most books I read. I had seen Rocketman at the cinema but it wasn’t until I re-watched it that I wanted to listen through his old albums and came across the audiobook, read by Taron Egerton.

I was hooked. The book is really fun. I was laughing out loud both when listening and later while reading the paperback. I think what really made this book enjoyable was the combination of sheer craziness, Elton John’s generosity and his love for music. 

I also really enjoyed the honesty in both the good and bad of what he has gone through. It’s not really shying away from either. Through the rough patches you get all the details of how bad, just as you get to really celebrate the good. It’s oddly inspirational. If Elton John can pull himself out of that (!), then I can pull myself out of my petty misery.

I suppose some of it is a series of name dropping but for someone who seems to know everyone there is to know in the music business, it would be hard to avoid. I never felt that it was unrelated but filled a purpose for the story. 

Yes, of course even an autobiography has a storyline but some of the stuff Elton John has lived through you couldn’t make up. And I really enjoyed the love of music, creating it and performing it, that runs through his life. In an era where you often wonder if everyone is just in it for the fame, it’s heartwarming to read about someone who is a genuine music nerd. 

It’s one of the best autobiographies I have read as well as one of the best music books I’ve read. Whether you are an Elton John fan or not, Me is worth reading.

A Paradise while the Sun Shines

When she found the spot it looked like paradise.

The little body of water, blue like submerged ice bergs, reflected clotted-cream clouds on its mirror-like surface. The lone tree at the distance, was lush and green like unripe gooseberries. Its bark, café con leche. The pine trees on the side of the water looked spacious and healthy in their juniper clothes. She was delighted to learn that the cabin next to this tranquil spot was for sale and she bought it without considering.

Summer passed quietly. Many days were spent in happy solitude. She did several paintings from her favourite spot with the solitary tree at the centre. She read all her favourite books laying in the warm Riesling light. The pond tempting her to take a dip in its clear, cool water but eventually the turn of the weather forced her indoors.

When the spiders also moved in to the cabin, one after another, she fought them off and tried to shove them out the door, but for every one she released, two more were found. In corners and under chest of drawers, dangling behind the loo and sprinting over the floor as she turned the lights on.

When the squirrels took over she was at her wit’s end. She couldn’t shove them out the door but no food was safe in the house. She woke to see one of them on the kitchen table, eating her walnuts. The pasta was spread out in the cupboards. The metal containers she bought were no match. They soon learnt to prize them open.

Late winter the wolves came. Their concerts kept her awake in the night.

Now she stood by the bank, the water at her feet, black like tar. Nothing could be reflected in it. The pine trees, as if covered in muddy moss, leaned into each other, threatening to fall into the water. The sky was petroleum with snow-heavy clouds. And at the opposite end stood the tree with spidery branches, dark and rotten as if decaying while they stretched in to the low-resting clouds.

She shuddered and, as she heard a car come up the dirt road, she turned to meet the estate agent.

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Think this story needs a better title. Any suggestions? Interesting what stories come out just from an image of a tree in a lake.