House We Used to Live In

Swede Towers in the 19th Century, when it was the village shop

On Monday, almost nine years to the day since Mrs S & I tipped our final van-load of belongings into Swede Towers at the end of an exhausting series of back and forth trips to and from our rented place in Norwich, I leave this house for the very last time, alone. To say I'm heartbroken really wouldn't come close to describing the state I'm in. I've bounced off these walls in solitude for over a year now, reflecting on the cul-de-sac my life has ended up in and I'm not ashamed to admit that it's proved to be a traumatically difficult period. But, even in my darkest hours, I take great comfort from the 14 years I shared with this remarkable woman and though much diminished by her leaving, I know for certain that I'm a far better person for having known her. 

Swede Towers from roughly the same angle in 2019 (ours is the green door where the shop window once was)

Mrs S dropped round a few weeks ago, soon after I accepted the offer on the house, to pick up the last of her outstanding bits and bobs. It was the first time I'd seen her since February. We wound up sitting in the kitchen overlooking the remnants of her amazing garden, nursing our respective cuppas and catching up like old friends do - at one point we reduced each other to breathless tears of laughter following some silly remark or other. In the wake of her visit, I plummeted into a really dreadful emotional place for the following ten days or so. It makes no sense for me to try and keep in touch, or to meet up with her again in the future. I can't see her because I so very much want to see her. So that's the end of it. 

If you've made it this far, thank you and I apologise for wallowing in my own dismalia yet again. Going forward, you'll be pleased to hear that it's not something I plan to make a habit of anymore. Our mutual blogging chum Drew offered some simple, yet simultaneously profound advice in the comments a few days ago '...take the good memories of the house with you and forget to pack the ones that are not too good...' Amen to that. 

Wish me luck - I'll see you on the other side, as and when I get the broadband sorted in the new gaff. 

The Smithereens - House We Used to Live In

Farewell Pat DiNizio

Following less than a month after the death of Tommy Keene, the world lost another power pop legend on Tuesday, in the shape of Pat DiNizio of The Smithereens, who passed away at the age of 62. The Smithereens formed in 1980 and, at their very best, made a series of carefully crafted pop nuggets sound utterly effortless - a neat trick if you can pull it off. In their long career, the band opened for a veritable who's who of the great and good, including The Ramones, Pretenders, Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers, Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen. They were also big favourites of a certain Kurt Cobain.

I saw The Smithereens just once, at The London Astoria in 1988. As I recall it, the crowd was thin and strangely unresponsive. The band, however, were on fire, playing as if their lives depended on it.

Rest easy Pat.

The Smithereens - Behind the Wall of Sleep 

The Smithereens - Strangers When We Meet

55 From 55 - 1986

55 songs in 55 days - one for every year of my life...so far.

I'd vaguely stayed in touch with the guy who'd been my first manager at the record shop in Ipswich, when I started working there at the back end of 1979. Not long after I'd moved on to manage my own store in 1981, he left the company to open his own business - a little one man record shop in a small seaside town. By 1986 he'd had enough and was running the business down and trying to sell up. Meanwhile, in addition to managing my own store, I was now also clocking up the miles every week in an Area Manager capacity - and there was talk of even more branches to come. After a period of anxious consideration, I made the decision to go it alone. I purchased my former manager's tiny business for next to nothing and left behind  the relative security of the indie chain after seven years. It was a nerve wracking time. I was confident in my musical knowledge and customer service abilities, but could I run a business? And do all of these things by myself?

This is 'Strangers When We Meet', track one from The Smithereens' cracking debut LP, 'Especially For You'.