I WAS thrilled to see that the musical Hair has been revived.
It's back in the West End and, inevitably, touring productions will eventually take it round the country. I shall book now to avoid disappointment.
This was the show that summed up the 1960s when every teenager from Huddersfield to Hounslow wore flowers in their hair so they could be part of the hippy movement that started in the Haight-Ashbury district of San Francisco.
The Beatles had launched their peace and love musical revolution a scant 20 years since the end of the Second World War but the philosophy of Hair took it a stage further, being outspoken about politics and sex.
Hair featured the first totally nude scenes at the end of act one. I was there and while the idea was exciting and liberating, the result was a bit of a let-down. You saw more nudity in The Naked Chef.
The story is about a tribe of hippies living a bohemian life in New York during the Age of Aquarius, whilst fighting conscription into the Vietnam war. Echoes from the Middle East make it relevant still; the message that youth should stand up for what they believe remains potent, and the music is simply brilliant.
At the end, the audience were invited to join the cast on stage to dance the night away.
This was the age when protesting students in America put flowers down the gun barrels of National Guard soldiers sent to subdue them.
An age when it seemed, for a time, that love really could conquer all, and that the John Lennon and Yoko Ono bed-ins for peace might actually make a difference.
Ah well, we can all dream, and at least they tried.
Forty odd years ago, I was one of those hippy foot soldiers; I had the Afghan coat and the beads and the hair that reached my shoulders; I wore my jeans tucked into knee high boots and I even, on occasion, wore flowers in my hair.
We went to parties where we turned on, tuned in and dropped out – although we usually did it with Party Sevens of Watney Bitter rather than the lysergic acid promoted by Timothy Leary.
Ah well, to each his own.
Hair the musical has brought back wonderful memories but I have only one reservation about going to the revival.
If all us old hippies turn up, how we will get our zimmer frames up on the stage at the end to dance with the cast?