Day 06 - A Song That Reminds You Of Somewhere
The first time I flew the nest I was in my early 20s. I'd just come out of an ill-advised and emotionally scarring relationship and I thought what I needed most to sort my life out was a place of my own. Unfortunately, the only place I could afford was a shitty one-down two-up hovel perched precariously over the motorway with pleasant factory views, neighbours who liked to party (and park right outside my front door) and a cold, sterile bathroom. It was the worst six months of my life. While I was there (over Christmas too), my dad was rushed into hospital, my dog died, and a girl I really, really liked made it clear it wasn't ever going to be mutual.
I drank a lot while I was there. I developed a taste for red wine and vodka and cultivated my interest in whiskey and Jack. A trip to the supermarket wasn't complete without spending at least £15 on spirits. I stayed up late watching DVDs on a tiny TV (that I'd forgot to buy a TV license for), drinking till I was sleepy enough to make it through the night. The staircase was really steep; more than once I remember climbing up to the bedroom on my hands a knees.
I'm sure I listened to a lot of music while I lived in that house. I was working in the record library at the time so getting loads of freebie CDs and gig tickets. It was probably around the time Britpop started imploding, so my album of choice was more than likely This Is Hardcore, the perfect soundtrack to my life right at that moment (and, ironically, my favourite record of the 90s).
But it's not Pulp that reminds me of that house, and that dark, dark time. It's not Radiohead either, though they would be similarly appropriate. Actually, it's Sonny & Cher, I Got You Babe. My overriding memory is of watching Groundhog Day on DVD, struggling to laugh, hearing that song come round again and again and again...
A couple of mates rescued me a few months later, offering me a room in a shared house in a much more pleasant area, and happier times (while they lasted). I'll always be grateful to Matt and Greg (and Dave, who was moving out) for getting me out of that pit.
