The three of us are in the house. It is very hot, more suited to the flesh of orchids than humans. When i come in from outside my glasses are fogged for a full ten minutes. Kelly and Kate are coughing from either end of the flat; Kate busy doing nothing and Kelly the dor-mouse from Alice in Wonderland, nodding between sips of soup.
I returned yesterday having spent New Years at Doug's house. The "Rising Damp" film is on and I'm anxious for Gwen to hear the revamped disco theme tune with lyrics by Eric Chappell that are so trite that he must have tossed them off during the recording. But the siren scream of the capricious Eirlys, their daughter, sounds just before the credits roll and I witness the underlit seediness of the credit sequence alone.
I wonder, now that i'm nearly 40, whether this hipster imperative; the need to discover and celebrate obscure rubbish will ever stop. I had already been trying to impress with clips of "Yor! Manhunter from the Future" (there's so much wrong with even the title of that film!) specifically the dead bat hang-glider scene and an early seventies power trio called John B. Tiger with their song "We are the tiger bunch". They were German, had afros and all their songs seemed to be about tigers. Ha fucking ha. What a total waste of time.