I am having a pretty productive day in the All Saints Library (4th floor, if you want to bring me dinner, I'm thinking savoury, light?), though I must confess to just having misused the purpose of the uni computers by having an impromptu Doctor Who break, with the excuse of having remembered such a distraction it's best to get it out of the way. Now though, I am putting Ghosts of the Great Highway back on it's peaceful loop, and getting on with my work.
You know how sometimes music belongs intrinsically with people or things in your memory? For example OMC's How Bizarre will forever belong to Louise, formerly of the old Chorlton Pottery, though I lost touch with her years ago, and would have no idea how to contact her. Turning American, by The Wildhearts, is forever teenage angst and crushes on beautiful boys with long, long, long black hair. And Sun Kil Moon's Ghosts of the Great Highway, the entirety of it, belongs to a boy, a boy where there was always a glimmer, and never a chance.
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