City of Plans

Day one. Monday 19th.
We're away away, the flight is flown. A return to the days of suitcase bruises on thighs.

The band are in Stockholm on the first day of work on the new album. We celebrated Tracyanne's birthday a little too vigorously last night and this morning we looked like a fog of ghosts. We are also a little foxed by Stockholm's cruel lapse into winter weather. My summer dresses look up at me with derision. Daylight is pretty irrelevant in the building of songs anyway.

One song in.

A glance backwards. Glasgow. Waiting for the underground train to arrive, leaning against the wall trying not to think about anything and to savour the last minutes of being yourself before you go to work and have to be the smile, watched a man whom it was impossible to picture as young. How do boys grow into having ruddy butcher's faces? He got into my carriage and at the next stop a man who looked exactly like him, round nosed, moustached, round wire glasses, dressed almost identically in neutral but specific smart-old-man-get-up, got on and sat beside him. No one else seemed to notice.

I'm off for song two.

Slightly more topical blog to follow.

Carey.