Tonight we have cd's flying out of the cupboard, left right and centre. The rotting joists are dipping even more with the weight teetering next to the cd player.... Why I have not yet become an iPod convert I don't exactly know... maybe something to do with liking to have sleevenotes, cover art, info that comes with cd's, shards of plastic shearing off cheaply assembled cases...
So far we have known and lurved Sawdust (on which lurks a far more listenable version of romeo & juliet and an interesting Shadowplay cover), His'n'Hers, Urban Hymns, and now Electric Landlady. This one's getting all a bit samba-esque, albeit underlined by the tragedy with that speedboat. S'pose if I had an iPod I'd move on swiftly to There's A Man Works Down The Chipshop Swears He's Elvis.
Last night I flicked over to the many-shades-of-tangerine that is Mary Portas' dynamic coiffure. The marvellous Ms Portas was battling on behalf of people allegedly daft enough to buy pieces of furniture too large for their homes. She spoke to a salesman who earned £57k in commission by selling sofas to such people. Amazing.
And then, for a bit of late-night retrorama and pathos, I caught the Ruth Jones being Hattie Jacques thing. It came over pretty well, although ended with sadness and broken vases in a hotel room. However I lurved the delightful styling details du jour, such as this CatherineHolm kitchen ware. I may even be buying the Hattie biog, as long as its packed with Smiths-cover-worthy photos.
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