I've been dipping in and out Stuart Maconie's musical memoir 'Cider With Roadies', and so last Saturday I was in a Halifax reading how he first came across The Smith's.... and in a sort of non-connection (since I don't hold with the view that the fate of the world lies in my reading habits) the next news I heard was that Morrissey had collapsed while performing in Swindon... And I've delayed this posting long enough to read now that he is up and perfoming again, so, er, thats good isn't it?
SM writes that he connects his falling in love with the music of Morrisey, Marr and co while travelling in the boot of a car. My similar recollection isn't quite as transportingly uncomfortable but it is still in the 'never forget catagory', but mainly because it was the night that Gillingham nearly knocked Everton out the FA cup.
Like many shy males of my age, The Smiths provided the soundtrack to my university career. I don't listen to the music as much as I once did, but there are a handful of lyrics so solidly fixed in my brain that certain trigger words never fail to bring them to mind.... Specifically if anyone ever mentions their intention to spend the evening socially outwith their abode, I'll pipe up, possibly internally, Well, I would go out put I havn't got a stitch to wear.
Another example is any mention of 'The Book', to which my natural response is to point out that there is more to life than books y'know, which you may just have noticed I've tried to immortalise even FURTHER - if that were possible - in the title of this 'publication'.
Anyone following my train of thought will also know that the rider on the quote is 'but not much more'... so perhaps I'm guilty of a controvening of some blog description act, for I have as yet not mentioned any books
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