The Age of Not Believing.


One song that will always send me speeding back to my childhood is The Age of Not Believing from Bedknobs and Broomsticks.


I loved that film as a kid. I really did. My VHS copy was worn out from constant use. I got so used to watching that tired old tape that when the film was broadcast on TV a few years back, I expected the picture to be warped at the top of the screen. Sometimes, I'm an idiot.

I used to know the script inside out. I was the same with the soundtrack. I’d inherited a copy of the LP from my mum’s friend Vivienne, which was often on the turntable of the record player in my dining room. I’d mime along to it when no-one was about; pretending I was David Tomlinson, extolling the virtues of underwater life to Angela Lansbury while surrounded by a school of animated fish. I’d watch my performance throughout in the reflection in the glass door of my mum's display cabinet. It’s no wonder I ended up as a professional show-off with a childhood like this.

Back then I was a dreamer. I spent most of my time in a world of my own, making up plays and songs, or practising my magic tricks. This was probably part and parcel with being an only child. It may sound lonely, but I enjoyed it.

This is what The Age of Believing evokes in a nutshell: a time when anything seemed possible, and how you can often lose sight of it. If you’re lucky, you find it again as an adult. The jury’s out as to what stage I’m at; somewhere between the last two, I guess.

I’ve taught the song to lots of children in my occasional guise as a singing teacher. Most of them liked it. Few of them were old enough to appreciate the sentiment. One day they will. It’s good to keep a little make believe and magic in your life. I think so, anyway.

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