The Years of the Doodle: Interesting to Say the Least

Because I threw my camera into the ocean a few months ago and can't rely on new photography with which to entertain you, I'm spending some time going through my picture archives, and I found this gem taken in 2001 which reveals:

1. My old drapes
2. My old air conditioner (never replaced)
3. My old chair upholstery
4. The fact Doodle is nothing if not a piece of work. Always has been, always will be.
   

Doodle~ NYC~ 2001

Year of the Cat
By Al Stewart & Peter Wood

On a morning from a Bogart movie
In a country where they turn back time
You go strolling through the crowd like Peter Lorre
Contemplating a crime

She comes out of the sun in a silk dress running
Like a watercolour in the rain
Don't bother asking for explanations
She'll just tell you that she came
In the year of the cat

She doesn't give you time for questions
As she locks up your arm in hers
And you follow 'till your sense of which direction
Completely disappears

By the blue tiled walls near the market stalls
There's a hidden door she leads you to
These days, she says, I feel my life
Just like a river running through
The year of the cat

Well, she looks at you so cooly
And her eyes shine like the moon in the sea
She comes in incense and patchouli
So you take her, to find what's waiting inside
The year of the cat

Well, morning comes and you're still with her
And the bus and the tourists are gone
And you've thrown away the choice and lost your ticket
So you have to stay on

But the drum-beat strains of the night remain
In the rhythm of the new-born day
You know sometime you're bound to leave her
But for now you're going to stay
In the year of the cat