It had been ages – literally over a decade – since I had heard tubular bells. It used to be a favourite of my father’s, and still is. I like it too, but had forgotten about it. We were driving back to alsager on Saturday, having been to see scott, becs and Vanessa for the afternoon; charlotte had classic fm on, but we were chatting and not listening to it, when I suddenly heard it. Not the full version, mind, for that takes an hour to play, but a cut down version of paul oakenfolds classic.

Dad used to play that track on Sunday mornings, sometimes, when I was little. The opening bars, as distinguishable as anything in music, always pleased me. I heard them, again, late Saturday afternoon in Charlie’s car, and instantly I was in two places at once. I was again, crawling on the floor of the front room at Hampshire close, aged 5, but also in a car with two of my best friends. Hence two very joyful times were united by one piece of music, one phrase, repeated.

You know, tubular bells now seems even more dear than it was now. Its such a great, mysterious piece. Funny how music can do that.