I remembered this morning I used to sing in the shower and you used to stand outside the door listening and I always knew you were there so I sang more loudly as a result and I’d sing things like There may be trouble ahead because there was always trouble ahead but we’d always face the music and dance and we’d always pay the bill before they asked us to leave because we were always the last to leave and then we’d stroll home hand-in-hand with me crooning an old Irish ballad until we reached the old conifer at our door and I’d hug it and say I love you tree and you’d say to behave myself and we’d go inside and listen to the Dubliners or the Clancy Brothers and we’d sing and laugh and cry but the unholy bastards we sold the house to cut down the tree that was our landmark in the dark and then you were cut down as well and the music died and I stopped singing in the shower.
There was a programme about James Joyce on BBC Four last night, narrated, strangely enough, by Angelica Huston. Anyway, I’ve gone all Joycean today:
I remembered this morning I used to sing in the shower and you used to stand outside the door listening and I always knew you were there so I sang more loudly as a result and I’d sing things like There may be trouble ahead because there was always trouble ahead but we’d always face the music and dance and we’d always pay the bill before they asked us to leave because we were always the last to leave and then we’d stroll home hand-in-hand with me crooning an old Irish ballad until we reached the old conifer at our door and I’d hug it and say I love you tree and you’d say to behave myself and we’d go inside and listen to the Dubliners or the Clancy Brothers and we’d sing and laugh and cry but the unholy bastards we sold the house to cut down the tree that was our landmark in the dark and then you were cut down as well and the music died and I stopped singing in the shower.
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