Adam

Dum, dum, da-dum-dum, dum-dum-dum-dum-dum.

An 81 hit, but recorded on here as the opening track because it was having a total revival in the Brighton sixth form indie discos in 89.

Leaving me feeling anxious and happy and nostalgic all at once and suddenly so bloody young again it makes me want to weep.

Because we had it all back then, didn't we, Jules and me?

We had everything ahead of us.

We hadn't screwed anything up.

It's like I can feel the music pumping right through me now, like it's somehow charging my very soul, as tears of loss and something like homesickness stream down my cheeks.

I can't stop looking at the tape's twin spindles as they keep on turning, staring back at me like a pair of hypnotic eyes, round and round and round and round and round.

Then I'm jolted by a thunderous crash and a blinding flash of lightning obliterates the square of black night sky framed by the shed window, and I feel my whole universe shake.

Next thing, what the hell?

It's me, turning round and round and round, faster and faster, like I'm gonna break.

In a hideous whirlwind of coloured lights and rushing wind, and all the while with filled bloody oaky singing Don't You Want Me over and over again, until, twisting, pulling back, desperately trying and failing to fight against the tide, I'm sucked down, screaming into that churning, kaleidoscopic, typhoon-shrinking black eye.

That's so cool.

Well, if Brian has been around, I haven't seen him.

I've been out in the tractor all morning.

And what about Alice?

Have you heard from her?

Not since yesterday.

I still can't believe the way she jumped to his defence.

I thought, after she agreed I should go to Hungary, she was on my side.