The passages of time. Departure. Arrival. My sister and I used to go and visit grandparents in Dorchester,We would watch the birds in their garden in the morning togetheras we prepared breakfast and for the day. My sister and I weren't particularly aware of this process I imagine. We had little concept of the passing of time or our place in the universe.
Now my parents are doing the same in their house in Canterbury. I'm watching wheeling seagulls from my own urban window on the world in Newcastle, As I prepare for Monday. I'm enjoying Talulah's Tape a piece of gentling jangling Indie confectionary fromGood Flying Birds ,
Midwest skittering of the most good natured kind from somewhere in the Mid West though I sense its heart lies in Glasgow.. Byrds of a different feather in their record collections though I also detect The Ramones and the ghosts of the Eighties American underground. I can dig it..... Fellong groovy.
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