They are frying eggs in the kitchen. You know how I feel about this.
I am revisiting old songs. I will to be able to play this one live because it needs the backing vocal (to my ear anyway).
It is made of jumbled up memories: almost drowning as a chid in shallow water in a swimming pool as a child (I remember the feeling of the wet ribbons in my plaits, which I held on to afterwards for safety); Scouse John telling us everything that Mufti said, in the art college refectory in the sunshine; and the story a friend told me about tripping while rowing down the river in Sussex and being followed by swans who seemed terrifying, almost motorised, in pursuit of him and his friend, who were rowing frantically to get away from them.
But also other things. All the frightening things in the world for a child and young adult.
Maybe I shouldn't have told you all this. It's just that I have 50 student websites to look at today and I needed a big prevarication.