I couldn't decide on what go with but tonight I was looking for some papers in my immaculate filing system ie shoved in a cupboard, and came across a few packs of photos. These had also been filed a couple of years ago when in my extended leave of employment I'd decided to sort all of my old photos. Which of course, never happened.

One of the photos was from about 1990, of a girl I once knew - and immediately I was reminded of this album. It's not an absolute favourite or anything like that but a backdrop to a happy time in my life.

The Sundays were pretty big for a while weren't they. They seemed to come from nowhere and were absolute darlings of the NME. It's jangly, indie, acousticy pop without ever getting too saccharine sweet. I think 'Can't Be Sure' is such a great track, 'Here's Where The Story Ends' and 'I Kicked A Boy' are also highlights for me.

Harriet Wheeler, posh indie bird, with her hair up and turned up dungarees was remarkably easy on the eye too.

This girl in the photo, we had an on/off relationship for a couple of years, mostly off. She was pretty cool, cooler than me anyway - and had a flat with her mate while I was still living at home. Occasionally I'd stop over, sometimes things happened, more often they didn't. I had a key for a bit and would let myself in a make a coffee and listen to music even when she wasn't there - it was a pretty loose carry on really. She was well into her music and this album was a favourite of hers. We used to listen to it lying in bed sometimes. She made me a C120 tape of this, Monday's Bummed and Sittin' Pretty by The Pastels. At this time I used to go off travelling and hitchhiking and fannying around and that was one of the tapes I had on my Walkman.

The flat was above a shop. You had to enter it up metal stars at the back, from an alley. A few of us had been out and it ended up four of us going back to the flat - the two girls and me and a mate. My mate and the other girl had only really met that night - he reckoned she had the look of Olive Oil and I had to agree.

Two couples retired to separate rooms. After about ten minutes we were in her room and had to stop proceedings as we heard the door slam and the sound of my mate's footsteps hurriedly clanking down the metal stairs. I rang him the next day and we went for a few pints. What happened?
'She wanted to do stuff '
'What...stuff?'
'Awful stuff. I don't want to talk about it.'
'...ok...how awful?'
'Really... unpleasant y'know. I mean, you might like it but I don't.'
'Oh cheers.'

And I never found out what it was.

Anyway, here's to metal stairs, indie pop, on-off relationships, rainy streets, awful stuff, good stuff, happy times and waiting for the next part of your life to start.