[…]

Jod brought me Morrissey’s latest album on her way back from a wedding in the Home City. While listening to ‘First of the gang to die‘ yesterday, I thought of the Hyperborean Hunter, rapidly plunging into winter’s long uninterrupted darkness descending on the great expanses of whiteness he roams — as he is unreasonably fanatic about Morrissey. I also remembered getting drunk merry with Theta the Cuttlefish last September in York to this song, just before I was revealed as a brit-pop kid. I felt happy and high for the first time (excluding sex, of course) since August.

While the song was playing, Gizmo was frantically miaowing in tune (???), pausing only to vigorously and purposefully scratch his head.

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