So I was looking for my photograph of Jim Morrison’s grave to add, rather ghoulishly, to my recent review of The Doors. It took me ages to find the right photo album* but persistence is actually, truly, in-all-honesty my middle name. So here it is.
I am told his grave is all fenced off now, when we went to Père Lachaise Cemetery in 1996 there were all manner of half-baked poetic offerings, half-smoked joints and half-wilted flowers all over it.
Near by was this:
Then I started to realise that half the photo album** seemed to be various literary and musical^ personages’ graves; pretentious little beggar that I was.
1006 Down (still).
*I miss proper photo albums and cherish the ones I have.
**and remember this was way before digital photos, it was hardly a cost or hassle free hobby.
^well Serge Gainsborg, does that count? only joking irate French idolators.