(SITTING ON) THE DOCK OF THE BAY by OTIS REDDING. Story by Bill Arnott.
In the lee of an old wooden dock with barnacled pilings, fishing boats bobbed at anchor.
In the lee of an old wooden dock with barnacled pilings, fishing boats bobbed at anchor.
I could see the bright lights of the Barracuda Fish and Chip Shop as a cheery spot in front of me.Ā The door opened; smell and music spilled out. Fish and chips and doner kebabs and Build me Up Buttercup with all its warm yellowness.Ā I sang along.Ā I would be home soon.
Most teenagers donāt want to be seen dead with their parents, let alone dance with them, but for some reason, I knew magic was being created in this little Dee Why record shop.
We hit the road. I press play on the album Baby Caught The Bus by Clairy Browne and the Bangin' Rackettes. I lose count of how many times I replay Love Letter.
About five minutes into the program I heard a slither of music that sent a shiver up my body. It sounded perfect. It touched a nerve of sadness. And also gave rise to joy.
With the exception of evening joggers and trend-spotters playing Pokemon Go, Rosalind Park laid dormant. Too exhausted to call home and too cold to trawl through the reservoirs of online music, I launched a playlist on Spotify.