Last night I dreamt I walked the streets of my old home town. Not as it is now, with its lar-dee-dar shops for the lar-dee-dar yachting types who've taken the place over and priced the locals out; as it was when I was small - a real place with real shops: the bakery on the corner with the girl called Wendy my Mum knew, Mr Shillabeer's butchers where he'd pull coins and sometimes, miraculously, eggs, from behind my ear, Pillar's the toy shop with its window stuffed full of Dinky cars and Belli's the tobacconist by the bus stop home where my Dad would buy his tins of St Bruno.
Why at 45 am I walking the streets of my early childhood in my sleep? What is the cranky old processor in my brain up to, sifting through this hardly-used stuff on the hard drive? Who knows.
But it reminds me of when my grandad, sat in late summer out the back of the modern house we moved to in the 70s, would talk to me about the Plymouth of his youth, before the bombs fell and the 60s planners finished the job.
That place existed only in his head, and so it is now with mine and me.
I lived in Trumpton and I am a Soft Southern Jessie.
Freddie Phillips - 'Chime And Clock Theme' (featuring Brian Cant, narrator) (1967)
Freddie Phillips - 'Band Concert' (1967)
[vinyl rips from the Music For Pleasure LP]