segunda-feira, 22 de junho de 2015

# 660

Para a M.M. 

«I look out of the bedroom window and can see the university buildings just across a windswept car park. Only a five-minute walk away is the union bar. 'I'll head over there,' I think, 'and see if I can spot anyone I know.' A couple of other girls from school have come up to Hull, so in the bar I scan the room for familiar faces, but can see no one. I start queuing for a drink when an announcement comes ringing out over the tannoy system: ‘If Tracey of the Marine Girls is in the building, will she please come to reception.’ Now I’d be lying if I implied that this was a complete shock – I had already been told earlier in the summer by Mike Akway that a label-mate of mine on Cherry Red, a solo artist called Ben Watt, was going to Hull at the same time, though I barely took it in at all. Mike had pointed out Ben’s photo on the wall at the Cherry Red offices, but again I took no notice, and he also gave me a copy of Ben’s first single ‘Cant’, and I still took no notice. Hearing this message broadcast, I realise it is probably Ben trying to track me down, and he suddenly seems like a possible kindred spirit in this hellish place full of prats in rugby shirts and girls who hide their Tampax behind flowery curtains. I make my way up the stairs to reception and there he is, leaning against a pillar.»

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