Our rooms are small, but not too small. Each is ample for one sixth former. A single bed, drawers, a desk and space for the all-important stereo.
CD players haven’t been around for many years and mine looks the business next to my mini system and speakers. I open the door and enter my room, a towel around my waist after a trip to the shower.
There’s Andy, lounging at the foot of my bed listening to U2. We chat for a bit and, as usual, Andy shows little sign of heading out. His room is in the main building, about five minutes away. He likes the space over my side. Teachers never come over here.
I’m throwing on some clothes as Andy turns up the volume. Bono’s voice belts out. This sweater I’m wearing is truly nasty. A grey knit made from artificial fibres, full of holes and way, way overdue a wash.
U2’s The Joshua Tree is a daily play. We’ve sung ourselves pretty hoarse by the time the album gets to In God’s Country. Time for another band.
This is the last year of our sixth-form studies. We should be knuckling down and getting some work done. Music is pretty much all we think about these days.
The February sun is setting as I load the Hothouse Flowers CD. I’m sprawled on the floor and we accompany Liam and the rest of the band through their set list. No need for the lyrics sheet these days.
There are a few of my less-favourite tracks at the start of the album, but then we start getting into it. Eventually we reach the most important piece of music of my youth.
Hothouse Flowers’ If You Go is undoubtedly one of their lesser-known tracks. I cannot get enough of it.
Over and over it plays. In my head even after the CD has stopped spinning. Leo Barnes plays the haunting alto saxophone and I’m slapped with it right from the introduction.
It has me. The sound is so intense and permanent, it’s like a musical tattoo on my life. The song itself is meaningful to me too.
At this time, I’m coming to terms with losing a dear friend. Not through death, but through her choice to move away.
I’ve become very close to her over the previous six months. Suddenly she’s gone from my life and there’s not a thing I can do about it.
I don’t know if the fact she’s a she has any relevance to my feelings. I’ve just never become so close to someone so quickly.
I’m bitter until I finish school. I brood and listen to music. With Andy. With Myles. And if they’re not around, I listen to music while I run.
I lose myself in it. Without really intending to, I’m reducing my circle of friends to those I’m confident really are friends. And I make promises to myself.
One of those promises is that one day, somehow, I will play this piece of music. I will pick up a saxophone and play those beautiful notes.