For the last two weeks, whenever I go to the gym, I hear a song playing. I don’t know what it’s called and I don’t want to learn (otherwise, Google is only a click away). Its chorus goes like ‘I could never be a woman’, which is peculiar, considering it is sung by a presumed man. This is some coincidence, as this song was quite a hit back during my London days. I would actually hear it playing every time I would shop in Harts the Grocer (which became yet another Tesco Metro long time ago), opposite the Russell Square station exit.
If I were superstitious, I would consider this is due to some cosmic get-together concerned with awakening this memory into me, in the aftermath of the bombings (a teaching assistant? what the fuck, world?). But I know that, in reality, it is just that the gym has only a finite number of CDs to play.