A Needless Lie in the Supermarket

To London tomorrow on the charabanc. I shall alight at ten at Victoria and have a few things planned. I’m very keen to go to a decent market and will head straight to Brick Lane to peruse the stalls. Later I shall be meeting D and we shall, no doubt, scamper through the streets like a pair of urchins, thieving silk handkerchiefs and pocket watches from wealthy gentlemen. Failing that, we might have a spot of lunch and visit some independent record shops. I’d quite like to go to the Tate Modern too. I have selected 20 CDs from my Amazon wishlist to look out for and while I certainly won’t be buying all of them, I am keen to add to my collection in one or two areas tomorrow. Like an omen, Phill Jupitus played a Young Marble Giants song on 6Music earlier; the melancholic – yet melodic - 1980s Welsh group’s cult classic Colossal Youth nestles on my list. Having played it to death on an old, old tape, I really want a CD copy of Mikey Dread’s African Anthem too. Finding those albums would be wonderful.

It seems that much of my socialising takes place in the confines of J. Sainsbury where I am often bumping into old school friends and figures from the past. Of course, all my school muckers are turning 40 this year and when I encountered J by the cheese and milk we discussed how 40 was now the new 20 or 30. Noticing my Creative Zen MP3 player, he remarked that our parents would never have been seen dead with such a gadget. ‘Let alone playing the Arctic Monkeys,’ I remarked merrily. I was lying. I was actually listening to a Sufjan Stevens album. It troubles me that such deceit comes so easy to my lips but, in my defence, I suppose I figured that J had never heard of the Michigan songsmith and I indubitably couldn’t be bothered to explain who he was.