lundi 1 décembre 2014


Sometimes I think that certain songs follow us around.  They are there for us when we need them.  Waiting.

I was in the pub on a Sunday afternoon, drinking red wine.  It had been a bad week.  But I was with a great girlfriend, sheltering from the rain and cold, drinking through my hangover; that morning I had been to a second-hand bookshop and bought copies of 'A Room with a View' and 'Brideshead Revisited'.

Then this came on.

"You look really, really happy," the barman said as I sang along with every word.

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