Day 290. Like boats against the tide (again) (17/10/13)

It's probably my own fault.

Tom had been describing a dream that he'd had; a fairly vivid dream with an almost manga-esque plotlines that involved time travel that was necessary in order to kill his former self (yes, paradoxes all over the place with that one), the true rulers of the universe and a flying space pig of some description.

I never have dreams anymore, I told him.

Well I had a dream last night. Jesus I had a dream last night, the single most depressing dream that I've ever had.

(Can I just go with a cheerful aside for a second though? Catching up on a Top of the Pops 1978; a stupidly young Elvis Costello performing 'Radio, Radio' at the height of his vaguely threatening geek persona, followed by an even more strikingly youthful Chris Rea with 'Fool If you Think It's Over' which is a damn fine song)

Anyway, I'd gone to bed about 12.30 after watching the first episode of season 2 of Veep (totally in love with Julia Louis Dreyfuss, it's okay, J is fully aware of this. As am I on how J feels about Phil Jagielka) played a bit of FIFA (last minute Daniel Sturridge winner in a 4-3 thriller vs Arsenal) and encountering the joys of online GTA V for the first time (joy of late shift today)

(Aside again Legs and co dancing to ELO's 'Sweet Talking Woman' closely pursued by Lydon, Wobble and Levine on video, PIL premiering 'Public Image' - no 13 in the charts. Magnificent. Why are the charts not this interesting/diverse any longer?)

I was awake at 1.45, usual night time thing (oh shit! Jonathan King? Really? Surely they should be cutting him out? Fast forward. Rat Trap. Excellent) and back in bed at 2.30

At which point I fell into the most terrifyingly vivid, realistic, ordinarily horrid dream that I think I've ever experienced.

I had been diagnosed with some non specific but quite definitely terminal cancer (even typing the word is uncomfortable) and I was making the circuit of everybody that I knew saying my goodbyes.

The details have, thankfully, gone but the whole dream seemed to play out in real time; the experience lasted for weeks and had no conclusion of any kind. The  7.40 alarm came as blessed relief, the surety of daylight.

J reckons this whole thing is the result of last night's Corrie, watching the scenes of Roy and Hayley in Blackpool; a magically staged dance in the Tower ballroom followed by a scene on a bench on the sea front that turned the Fylde coast into the poster shot for Woody Allen's 'Manhattan' as Hayley (nearing the character's demise now) remarked that 'the tide comes in so quickly'. Heartbreaking. When Corrie gets it right, it really gets it right.

Was that all a touch depressing? Soz. As they say. I've been somewhat consoled in the writing process by Dollar with 'Shooting Star' (insubstantial, inoffensive) and The Jacksons' utterly magnificent 'Blame It On the Boogie'

1978. 35 years ago. Don't bother bringing back TOTP, it could never be this good. Although here is 'Oh, What a Night' by City Boy (thankfully lost to the passage of time)

Legs & Co dancing to Dan Hartman's 'Instant Replay'. In sequinned bikinis and nothing else. You really couldn't make this stuff up.

TEENAGE KICKS!!

First time ever on TOTP. The Undertones. Number 38. One of the greatest singles in the history of music. 35 years ago and they're all so young. I was 14. There can have been few better times in history to be that age.

An hour until I go to work. How in God's name am I supposed to top seeing Teenage Kicks for the first time ever (again)?

Well, the other joy of having been 14 in 1978 is that I'll be 50 in 6 days and I have this ridiculously gorgeous guitar in the next room (bought by my ridiculously gorgeous wife). Time to plug in.

See? A bit grim in the middle but it all turned out okay in the end. There's nothing that can't be made better by great pop.


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