Camping

Had an hour to kill between school stuff and drove out towards Shropshire, out into the countryside listening to Richard Butler's after-Furs albums loud with the Long Mynd over my left shoulder and the Sun trying its best and I'm thinking myself to be very happy. It was glorious.
Yea, my regression into early eighties post-punk stuff has had me re-reading Julian Cope's Head-On for the third or fourth time. Been loving it again, though my growing older is aiding the "tsk, silly boy" element every time I read it. But I'm also feeling happy about the nostalgia guilt. It was part of me and made me what I am, after all.

Bring on the Summer! I need to be out somewhere soon. I though I'd be off to music festivals now I have a new love of camping, but I've got booking on the same weekends as the best ones. Even Sandie Shaw is playing somewhere I can't go to. Gay icon she might be, but here's one heterosexual that'd love to see her for totally un-camp reasons.