A Million Miles Away

There was a time of Fridays when we were too old to attend the 2nd and 3rd years' school disco, too young to help run it and too small to successfully sneak into the pub, and this was the time of Fridays when me and my mate Marty went to each others' houses and played records.

We'd listen to music together with an intensity we only ever now listen with alone, lubricated only by the couple of cans of beer our Dads had left us cheerily as they exited with our mothers to do whatever parents did in small provincial towns on Friday nights.

These were the writing-lyrics-out-in-school-jotters and designing-band-logo years, when we looked into songwords for our truths, our manifestos and our epigrams. And if Paul Morley dismissed our heroes for writing 'sixth-form poetry' well that was fine - we'd be in the sixth form next year anyhow.

We dug Tamla Motown, sharp guitars and 'making a stand against the world' (for which read 'not much liking' the world of nice little bungalows, suburban cul-de-sacs, Conservative Clubs and the Daily Mail); a little synthpop was OK too.

A year or two later the pub jukebox would soundtrack our Fridays and the alcohol consumption would rise in pints as we sat in big groups in the lounge bar. Then College would scatter us and it'd never be quite the same again.

But for now there was just the two of us, the Courage Light Ale and the little room at the top of house filling with sound.

The place I love is a million miles away

It’s too far for the eye to see

Still it’s me at least, and you can't come there

No one is allowed at all

The Jam - 'The Place I Love' (1978)

Excuse me, I must now have a little cry.