My 60s – Special offer!

Signed copies for just £10 (Paperback) or £15 (Hardback) + postage.

My 60s: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798253693841: Books

My Sixties
The Spirit Lives
Not the sixties you’ve seen before.
This is the underground.
The real story.
Music, movement, philosophy.
A life lived through gigs, travel, friendships—and the edges of experience.
Part memoir, part autobiography, part raw collection of memories, this is a personal journey through a defining decade. Told through photographs, anecdotes, and reflections, it captures the spirit as it was lived—not as it’s been packaged since.
No Carnaby Street. No pop gloss.
Just the underground scene as I knew it.
From Kerouac to Zen, Kesey to Leary.
From IT and OZ to Dylan, Hendrix, and Pink Floyd.
From Hyde Park free festivals to Roy Harper and Abbey Road.
This is the sixties from the inside.

I have copies of most of my books in Paperback and Hardback that I am selling signed copies of at sale prices! Just either email, message or enquire in the comments. CHEERS – Opher

The New Replacement for Mandelson

“I say, Jeeves, I’m bally well not looking forward to meeting this fellow. I’ve heard he’s rude and coarse.”

Jeeves, polishing a cufflink with the air of a man buffing the crown jewels, inclined the dome.

“Public reputations, sir, are often exaggerated. One must allow for the distortions of the press, the wireless, and the modern habit of speaking before thinking – something that this colonial gentleman has perfected into an art form.”

“Well, even so,” I said, pacing the room like a cat with a mild grievance, “the whole thing gives me the heebie‑jeebies. The Foreign Office expects me to stride into the White House and charm the chap. Me! Bertie Wooster! A man whose last diplomatic triumph was persuading Tuppy Glossop not to punch a policeman dressed as a mermaid.”

“A notable achievement, sir.”

“Notable, yes, but hardly the sort of thing that prepares one for tête‑à‑têtes with world leaders.”

Jeeves slid the tie he’d chosen for me across his arm — a sober navy number that looked as though it had been raised in a monastery.

“If I may suggest, sir, a calm and courteous demeanour will serve you well. A light conversational touch. Avoidance of contentious topics. And perhaps refrain from mentioning the bombing of children in Gaza and Tehran.”

Bertie looked aggrieved. “I was jolly well planning to bring up the killing of the little mites, Jeeves. Jolly bad show!’

Jeeves coughed discreetly.

Bertie looked uncertain. “But perhaps I should put the future of the Empire first. One would not like to be the other who sparked off World War Three. Wouldn’t go down at all well at the club, eh Jeeves? Not like me to put the bally foot in it, what?”

“One can never be certain, sir.”

I sank into the armchair, feeling the weight of empire pressing upon the Wooster shoulders.

“Jeeves, old thing, what if he asks me about trade? Or tariffs? Or—heaven forbid—Brexit? I don’t know the first thing about any of that. My knowledge of international relations begins and ends with the fact that the French make jolly decent cheese.”

“I shall be present to guide the conversation, sir.”

“Well, thank heavens for that. Because between Gaza, Iran, and the tariff situation, I feel as though I’m being sent into a room full of dynamite with a candle strapped to my head. I read something in the paper about Gaza that made my toast go down sideways. Dashed gloomy stuff.”

“Your natural charm may prove disarming, sir.” Jeeves helped adjust the tie. “Global affairs are indeed in a delicate state, sir. Best avoided.”

“Jeeves, the last thing I want is to blunder into a discussion about sanctions or nuclear whatsits. If the President fellow asks me about Iran, I shall simply say, ‘Jolly tricky business, what?’ and then pivot to something safer. Golf, perhaps.”

“A sound strategy, sir.”

 “Well, that’s just the ticket, isn’t it? They send me—Bertie Wooster, a man whose most significant diplomatic achievement was convincing Gussie Fink‑Nottle not to release his newts at the school prize‑giving—into the midst of a world bristling with tariffs, tensions, and what‑not. And on top of that, there’s Iran. Every time I open a newspaper, Iran is doing something that makes the Foreign Office twitch.”

Jeeves gave a small, respectful cough. “It would be prudent, sir, to refrain from offering unsolicited commentary on such matters during your meeting.” Jeeves allowed himself the faintest, most Jeevesian of smiles.

“I shall endeavour to keep matters on a safe and civilised footing.”

“I shall be there to guide you, sir.”

“Well, that’s a relief. Because if left to my own devices, I’d probably end up telling him about the time Gussie Fink‑Nottle tried to teach newts to dance the Charleston.”

“Anecdotes of that nature, sir, may in fact prove disarming.” Straightening the tie.

“Disarming? They’d have him calling security.”

“On the contrary, sir. Many individuals of prominence find eccentricity refreshing.”

“You mean if he starts talking about sanctions, I should counter with a story about Tuppy Glossop falling into the ornamental lake?”

“Precisely, sir.”

“Jeeves… are you actually suggesting that my natural Woosterishness might actually help?”

“It has been known, sir.”

“Well, dash it all, that’s the first encouraging thing I’ve heard all morning. Right then, Jeeves. Let’s go face the music. If the subject of Iran comes up, cough twice. If Gaza, cough thrice. If tariffs, just faint dead away.”

“I shall endeavour to signal discreetly, sir.”

 “Well, that’s a relief. I can do that. I’ve got enough Tuppy material to defuse half the crises on the planet.”

I stood, unstraightened the tie, and attempted to look like the sort of chap who could represent the British Empire without accidentally setting fire to it.

“Very good, Jeeves. Let’s go and meet the man. If disaster strikes, you have my permission to intervene.”

“I shall be vigilant, sir.”

“And if I say anything frightfully idiotic—”

“I shall cough discreetly.”

“Splendid. Lead on, Jeeves. Let us face destiny, handshakes, and whatever ghastly canapé they serve in the Oval Office.”

A Memoir from the Sixties!

The music and the vibe; the life and loves.

This is the story of the sixties from the inside.

Hardback, Paperback or eBook. A great read!

My 60s eBook : Goodwin, Opher: Amazon.co.uk: Kindle Store

My 60s: Amazon.co.uk: Goodwin, Opher: 9798253680780: Books

The Cleansing – 37 – Chapter 19 continued

Is the democratic process the best way to elect leaders or should they be selected via an interview and application process as with every other job? That might ensure that they are not psychopaths, sociopaths and narcissists and have the right skills to do the job!

The world leader appointed by the aliens did not want to do the job, wasn’t motivated by power or greed, and was a good, able man.

‘UFOR?’

Chameakegra chuckled, immediately dissipating some of the tension. She visibly relaxed and that had a similar effect on Ron.  ‘UFOR is the United Federation Of Races’

‘Right.’

‘Beheggakegri is head of UFOR and a stickler for rules and an easy life. He thinks that all Hydrans are psychotic apes who are beyond all hope. In his view you are all an annoying bunch who should have been dealt with long ago. You are wasting valuable eating time. You Hydrans have failed the assessment and he wants to look for any excuse to terminate you all.’

Ron considered this for a number of seconds then he spoke in a hesitant voice. ‘If you don’t mind me saying, this seems to fly in the face of logic. It seems hypocritical to me.’

Chameakegra looked confused. She’d lived with the philosophy all her life and couldn’t see anything wrong with it. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Well,’ Ron shrugged, ‘you have a supposedly morally superior race of highly intelligent bods coming along making judgements on other people. This bunch of people at UFOR decides that we’re too violent so they are going to exterminate us. Is that some kind of oxymoron?’

‘How do you mean?’ Chameakegra was at a loss.

‘What I mean is that it is terrible for us to hurt one another but OK for your lot to wade in and exterminate the whole lot of us. That smacks of hypocrisy to me. Which is the more violent?’

‘But,’ Chameakegra replied searching around for the explanation, digging up the standard reply from her training, ‘It’s for the greater good, the good of the whole Federation, trillions of people. If we allow a canker to set in by permitting a devious, aggressive race in to the Federation it would upset everything. It could cause immense strife, even war. We can’t take the risk. All risks have to be eliminated. That’s how we have achieved such a peaceful coalition of very different races. We have eradicated all violence and created a federation of races based on equality.’

‘Yes,’ Ron agreed, ‘I can see that. But,’ he looked Chameakegra right in the eyes, ‘that doesn’t make it right does it? You can’t say you’ve eradicated violence when you go around destroying billions of other people. That is extreme violence.’

‘But it is done painlessly…’ Chameakegra tailed off, thinking about what Ron had said.

Ron shook his head. ‘Never mind. I reckon we’d better put that to one side for later. Right now we have to do a bit of planning to ensure that the worst doesn’t happen.’

Chameakegra pulled her mind back into focus. ‘Right. Let us carry out some strategic planning. Firstly, we have to prevent any further acts of violence.’

Ron sighed and began to wonder how he was possibly going to achieve that.

‘I will make it a priority to get the extraction completed with the minimum fuss,’ Chameakegra promised. ‘That should no longer cause major disruption. We are basically hunting out the stragglers. There won’t be mass round-ups all over the place. That phase is over. I’ll liaise with Grrndakegra and get that done as painlessly as possible.’

Ron knew who Grrndakegra was. They’d talked about the Giforian Commander who was jointly in charge of the operation. ‘Is she a problem?’ Ron questioned how the operation had been carried out. ‘Only it all seemed very confrontational and overly aggressive.’

Chameakegra agreed but was reluctant to say. Grrndakegra was an unknown factor. ‘I think Grrndakegra is alright. She’s a bit like Beheggakegri, overly officious, that’s all.’

Ron looked doubtful. ‘OK.’

‘I’ll sort Grrndakegra out,’ Chameakegra reassured him, wondering to herself if that was possible, ‘and I’ll see if I can’t rush through the lunar facilities so that we get the extractions out of those camps. That’d remove the focus for disquiet.’

‘If we could start getting a few of the extracted ones back so that people can see that all the conspiracy theories are wrong. That they haven’t been bumped off or had their minds wiped clean.’ Ron mused.

‘Yes, I am sure we can do something. We have the counsellors that the Judge has sorted in place now and some of the facilities are fully up and running. I’ll get things moving on that score.’ She was confident that she could force some movement out of Grrndakegra.

‘Doesn’t need to be a huge number to start with,’ Ron remarked, reflecting on the situation. ‘Just so long as they see that some of those who have been extracted are going to be returned and have not been harmed.’

Chameakegra studied him at length. ‘Good. Now the onus of responsibility moves on to you. You need to get all the departments of government up to speed. That is crucial’

Ron nodded, fully knowing how difficult that was going to be – new structures, new people, new systems, new philosophy. It was going to take some organising and setting up. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get them organised. I’ve got some good people in place.’

She smiled. She knew he had good people in place; she’d placed them there. ‘I’d start with security,’ she suggested. ‘Controlling that violent minority is an absolute priority.’

‘On it,’ Ron replied, wondering how he was going to deal with that one. He looked thoughtful. ‘I’ll chase up the education side. I know that’s more long-term but that is crucial. Your guys are putting in the new energy system. That will make a big difference – when everyone starts to receive free energy that’s bound to create a positive response.’ He strained his brain to think of what else might be important. ‘It’s going to be a mixed bag on the environment side, I’m afraid. There will be those who think that helping nature along is a great thing to do and there are those who have lost livelihoods or just object to being restricted. They think they’ve got a right to roam where they like and resent anyone telling them where they can’t go, particularly aliens. There’s bound to be some unrest.’

‘Can’t be helped,’ Chameakegra said. ‘If we are going to restore the ecosystem it has to be done.’

Ron agreed. ‘The decommissioning of all military equipment and bases is proceeding well. Although your lot are carrying it out we have human involvement. That ones more of a short-term loss big long-term gain. The worst is over. The personnel have already been demobbed along with all the personnel from supporting industries. That’s a lot of displaced, highly exasperated people..’

‘We are ensuring that everyone gets a good measure of food and enough of your ‘money’ to have a good quality of life.’

‘That certainly takes a little of the wind out of sails,’ Ron agreed, nodding in appreciation. ‘I was going to ask you about that. What is this food stuff?’

The Giforian chuckled. ‘Do they not like it?’

‘Oh, they like it alright, once they’ve got used to it. In fact it’s delicious. It’s just that nobody knows what it is.’

‘It’s designed to suit your pallets, to taste really good. It has all the nutrients required and the various flavours and textures maintain interest over time.’

‘Yes, but what is it? Plant or animal or both? Some tastes and feels like meat; some like vegetables and the sweet dessert things are simply to die for. But nobody can identify what the flavours actually are. They’re like nothing we have tasted before.’

Once again Chameakegra found it amusing. ‘None of that food has ever been near to a plant or animal. It was designed in a lab and created in food producing plants. Our research has obviously paid off if people are enjoying it.’

‘It’s certainly a bonus for us that nobody is going hungry,’ Ron remarked, looking extremely impressed. ‘For the first time in the whole of history there are no starving people anywhere on the planet. Every bit of good news helps. We’ll win ‘em over.’

‘But back to those displaced workers; giving them food and money on goes part of the way; they want jobs.’

‘We have set up retraining centres,’ Chameakegra reminded him.

‘That’ll help but it’s too slow. There are a lot of furious people out there whose life has been turned upside down.’

‘Can’t move much faster,’ Chameakegra replied looking thoughtful. ‘Education, caring professions, environmentalists, energy workers. There’s no end of opportunities. Big expanding fields.

‘I think it’s making a difference but there’s a real cyber war going on. Some people are deliberately putting out fake news, conspiracy and lies to confuse and enrage. Nobody can believe anything anymore. We need to counter that.’

Neff will have some ideas on that,’ Chameakegra chuckled. ‘They’ll not be a match for her.’

‘So,’ Ron reflected, ‘all departments are up and running, Things are beginning to settle and we have a plan. ‘We just have to wait until everything has settled and hope it holds together long enough so no more violent outbursts scupper us.’

Chameakegra frowned at him. ‘All that is great; if it proceeds fast enough. But it skirts around the real issue, the issue that is fanning the flames.’

Ron nodded. ‘Nationalism.’

‘Right, we’ll need to discuss just how we are going to address these cultural values so that we take the sting out of these primitive tribal nationals.’

‘I don’t reckon you should go around calling them primitives, for a start,’ it was Ron’s turn to produce a wry laugh. ‘Though I’d bloody agree with you. They’re a right shower. But if you go calling them primitive that’ll really rile them up.’

The Cleansing – 22 – Chapter 8 continued

Even among superior aliens there is political intrigue and emotional dislike, vying for position and ignoring rules and laws. Even with a benevolent take-over of a planet there is an inevitable backlash and populism is not logical.:

‘We are working with your scientists and technologists to improve your knowledge and understanding so that your horizons can be greatly increased.’ She did not add that this knowledge would be restricted until such time as the species were considered worthy. ‘This will have a huge impact on all walks of life, from energy production, transport and infrastructure, to your appreciation of the universe and how it operates.’

She peered out of their screens with a severe frown and green hue of displeasure. ‘You as a race have badly damaged the ecosystems that create stability in the planet, replenish air, water and soil, and ultimately enable all life to prosper. It is an ecosystem that has been billions of years in the making. Nature is not something apart from yourselves as your modern urban lives seem to suggest; it is a vital element in all your existence. Nature nurtures everything. You are part of it and dependent on it. It cannot be allowed to disintegrate. Even if you could live by artificially producing the necessary elements to live, your lives would lack a vital spiritual ingredient that would prevent you from being whole and living a satisfying life’. Her eyes shone with revolutionary zeal. ‘We will restore your ecosystems. For a while stretches of habitat will be protected and all Hydrans will be excluded from those zones to enable the food webs to rebuild. We will aide that recovery.’

Her face softened.

‘As part of this process we will enable new clean energy production technologies and non-polluting mechanisms to upgrade your industries. This will produce a revolution in manufacturing that will benefit all while also protecting your planet.’

Chameakegra drew herself erect and raised her crest, her scales a shimmering effervescence of blue satisfaction and gold authority. She seemed to speak directly to each and every one of them.

‘Fellow humans, we are poised at the edge of a new future, one that is congenial and prosperous for everyone. By the time we leave you there will be a new age, a new future and better life for everyone. We will go forward together.’

The picture faded away to pleasant views of meadows, sunrises and animal life, families playing in the midst of beauty, majestic landscapes and beautiful scenes; all carefully selected to create a positive vibe.

Grrndakegra’s leering face appeared hovering over her tridee messaging. ‘Another masterpiece,’ she remarked jeeringly. ‘I’m sure that’ll help pacify the brutes, make my job a lot easier. Much more of that and we’ll have all the fugitives handing themselves in for reprogramming.’

‘How’s the round up progressing?’ Chameakegra replied, ignoring the sarcasm.

‘Very well,’ Grrndakegra replied, looking smug.  ‘We’re doing a great job. We’ve now run down ninety-five percent of the despicables. We’re hunting down the rest and are winkling them out of the holes they’ve secreted themselves into. My troopers are getting good at extracting them. We’ve had to deal with a number of conspirators who were deliberately helping the fugitives escape. Perhaps you could have a word with your Hydrans about not hampering the cause, or getting in the way of the operation. After all, you could tell them that handing in the criminals is for the greater good. I’m sure they’ll all take notice of you.’ She chuckled mockingly. ‘Failing that you could warn them that we’ll add them to the list. That might do it.’

Chameakegra thought it best not to enquire too much about what was happening to the conspirators. Presumably they were already being added to the lists of those in need of adjustment for their antisocial ways.

‘How are the camps?’

‘Overcrowded, but we’re cramming them in,’ Grrndakegra replied jovially. ‘Always room for a few more.’

‘I hope to get the Lunar facilities completed soon then be can begin work on housing them properly and rehabilitating them,’ Chameakegra said, still attempting to treat Grrndakegra cordially as if she was trying as hard to get things right as she was.

‘I wouldn’t shut down your respiratory tract,’ Grrndakegra grinned, ignoring the question posed. ‘From what I’ve seen most of these dranglers they are well beyond rehabilitation.’

Chameakegra repressed a shudder. Were they on the same team?

‘We’ll see,’ she replied, trying to appear matter-of-fact and unflustered.

‘While you’re at it, I can see the value in painting an idyllic future for these dranglers but from where I am sitting I’m not seeing it. It appears to me just as Beheggakegri called it, these dranglers are a bunch of violent psychotics. It’s genetic. They can’t be cured. In my opinion they need eradicating and put an end to all this nonsense.’

‘Well thanks for your opinion,’ Chameakegra said coldly before breaking the connection.

‘That lizard’s got a great voice,’ Debbie remarked. ‘She speaks perfectly. How has she learnt English so quick?’

‘I bet it’s all done by technology,’ Denby suggested cynically. ‘I bet if you were to go to any other part of the world you’d hear it speaking in the local dialect.’

‘You reckon?’ Debbie replied, looking amazed. ‘I was wondering how that blue forked tongue and hard scaly lips could form words so perfectly.’

‘Did you hear what the fucking reptile said,’ Billy snarled. ‘She’s not only taking our fucking country off us, she’s banning us from going on our own fucking planet!’

Debbie looked confused.

‘All that shyte about allowing nature to repair so we’re not allowed to go places,’ Billy snarled. ‘Banned by a bunch of scabby lizards from going where we want in our own bleedin’ gaffe!’

‘I quite liked some of it,’ John muttered. ‘Sharing that technology and making life better. Perhaps they will make a difference?’

Billy and Denby both fixed him with withering stares.

‘The world is in a bit of a mess,’ Debbie remarked in a feeble voice, not wanting to bring their wrath down on herself.

‘What’s all that fucking shyte about putting this fucking dimwit writer, Ron Force or whatever his fucking name is, in charge? What the fuck does he know about running the world?’

‘Can’t do a worse job than the bunch we’ve just had in,’ Foxy quipped.

‘He’ll be running nowt,’ Denby asserted. ‘He’s just a face, a puppet. Those lizards’ll be pulling the strings.’

‘Right on,’ Billy nodding his agreement.

‘Well I like the idea of taking the money from the military and bunging it into schools,’ Cheryl asserted, glaring defiantly at Denby, daring him to turn on her. ‘About time the kids got a better deal.’

‘Bloody indoctrination centres, more like,’ Billy didn’t hold back with his glares. ‘They want to indoctrinate them, that’s all. It’s not about fucking education.’

‘If they overhaul production and make it more efficient that might bung a bit more in my pay packet,’ Foxy remarked cheerfully. ‘I could do with enough for a week or two on the Costa Brava.’

‘I for one aren’t going to be pushed around by a bunch of alien lizards,’ Billy asserted vehemently. ‘Just wait until that meeting this evening. I’ll tell it like it is?’

‘Your task will be to bring them together, to create a global community,’ Chameakegra explained. ‘You have to engineer building a society based on fairness and equality, one that works for everyone.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Ron looked aghast. The longer this went on the greater his suspension of belief. ‘Fucking Ada. That’s all? What am I meant to do in the afternoon?’

‘I have received your report,’ Beheggakegri’s image hovered above Grrndakegra’s tridee receiver looking suitably smug. ‘Good stuff. Do your best. This Hydran rehabilitation scheme looks like a recipe for disaster. Your troopers are doing a great job. I’ve been watching the Hydrans on their communications systems. They are becoming more and more irate. The camps are working too. Put a bunch of psychos together, pack them in and they’re bound to feed off each other. Before long they’ll be big trouble.’ He chuckled, scutes flashing blue with pleasure. ‘See if you can’t find a way of delaying those lunar facilities. The longer we have them cramped up in the camps the better. And tell the troopers to be even rougher when they drag them out. It would be good if we can inflame the families and lookers on. Make sure that the most troublesome, violent arrests find their way on to their communication networks. That’ll stir them up.’

Grrndakegra nodded assent, as if she needed telling how to do her job.

‘Make sure that your abduction teams steer well clear of the resistance groups,’ Beheggakegri added. ‘We don’t want any of them getting picked up. If possible we need to allow all that protest to ferment, some more widespread scenes of violence would play into our hands. You could try funding more of those prehistoric thugs that you used at the protests. They really created mayhem.’ Beheggakegri was obviously delighting in all this. His whole demeanour was glowing.

Grrndakegra watched the obese Dref flicking dainties into his buccal cavity with disdain verging on repulsion. He so obviously relished the thought of the Hydrans fighting but was enjoying the thought of Chameakegra’s downfall even more. It was easy to see that Beheggakegri totally despised the Giforian Commander. This business left Grrndakegra feeling disgruntled. That Dref Beheggakegri was incredibly annoying, giving out his instructions like this. She didn’t need telling.

‘I have slowed things down on the lunar facilities,’ Grrndakegra explained with a touch of exasperation. ‘Didn’t take much. I had a word or two with the Minorian in charge. We exchanged a few scenarios. He rapidly came round to my point of view, particularly when I informed him that you were on the case.’

Beheggakegri found that amusing.

‘So, the lunar facilities won’t be available for a long while yet. The camps are as full as a Breffta’s crop and the Hydrans are becoming feisty. We’ll see how lady Chameakegra copes with that. Keep up the good work Grrndakegra.’

‘I’ve already employed more provocateurs and am funding various media agitators, really stirring up the division and hate. That’ll all pay off. My troops have been instructed to leave our agitators alone. I have it all in claws.’ Grrndakegra wanted her obese boss to know that he certainly did not need to keep checking up on her.

Beheggakegri seemed suitably impressed.

Grrndakegra flicked off and stared at the space where Beheggakegri’s obscenely obese form had been. She felt like spraying the tridee with disinfectant.

Roy Harper – Sophisticated Beggar Album

When I was 18 back in 1967 I was desperate to get hold of Roy’s first album – Sophisticated Beggar. Roy had been hawking it around at his gigs but had just sold the last one. I think they’d only press 400. There were none left. So Roy lent me his own copy! (Just imagine! – The only copy he had!)

I remember that Roy had drawn in a moustache with a felt-tip.

I was lucky. One turned up a few week’s later in one of the second-hand record shops I used to browse through. Although it was a hefty £4 (a fortune for an impoverished student living off one meal a day of pig’s head soup) I snapped it up.

Here I am, some fifty seven years later, holding that album. A treasured copy.

The cover artwork was Lon Goddard. He played some guitar on the album too!