Sometimes, late at night, I’ll put music on that is a time machine to my youth. Sometimes that time machine will take me back to being 16 years old and sat drawing comics at the kitchen table. Mum with her back turned to me, and me listening to Suzanne Vega, or Tracy Chapman, or Kate Bush.
And I don’t know if it’s just a memory thing or because I now live in the house I lived in from 19-26, and that proximity keeps the walls of time thin here, sometimes I imagine I can walk out the front door, head up to the Student’s Union at Queens, and see old friends there. I’m 23 and it’s first year, and the first thing I’ve done is joined the drama society. Computer Science is easy, I can do it in my sleep, but here’s a chance to do something I loved doing as a kid but was always too anxious to actually do.
Maybe I’m early for a rehearsal. Maybe I can sit in the hall way, where quotes from the first line of various books are painted up “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again…”, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times”. And I’ll slide on my headphones and press play on This Woman’s Work. Or Peter Gabriels So.
And time will pass and slowly, a little crew will assemble. Hello Martin, Hello Maddy, Hello Rhian, Hello everyone. And time will tick and we’ll move off into one of weird little rooms that off shoot the stairwell at the student’s union and we’ll begin rehearsals.
And then I’ll head to the pub, where Paul Goth (was his surname really Goth? it never mattered) will be there. Holding court. Explosion of black curly hair, goatee beard, fine features, always laughing, a denim jacket and a pint. A constant presence. A little collection of followers around him as he expounds on philosophy and general bullshit. I suspect my first exposure to an Englishman.
Music and Meloncholy, you don’t realise you’re laying down the tracks to your life.
“Some moments that I’ve had
Some moments of pleasure.”
Kate Bush. Moments of Pleasure.
