I was up there in the upstairs bedroom scribbling my notes, in 1997, while outside in the blue dusk of misummer i could hear the football crowds returning home in noisy cars and blowing triumphant horns, huge klaxons trumpeting out of the evening far away on busy roads... Made me look up startled or partially interested from where i was writing... I used to like to sit up there as the sun went down and write letters in what must have been springtime.. Somedays i would walk down some dusty gravel path and end up at some bottom byway road on a grey park bench across from a moody shutup petrol station at eight in the evening. And then trundling back home to listen to music in the dark. I would listen to the Ruts and Mudhoney, stereo propped up on a chair beside the lowly bed with its rumpled covers and later i'd tune in the buzz of static radio frequencies to listen to some dumb programme.