I don’t care what anyone- Miss Penn included– says; summer isn’t over.
How can I tell? Well to start with the clocks don’t go back for a good while yet, which means it’s still officially summertime. Summer shows like True Blood and Breaking Bad are still airing too- which means that the season can’t be at an end.
Plus I’m heading off to a festival this week, and that’s a thing that happens in summer. When there’s sun. So there.
So while I’ve been scrabbling through the shed in search of tent and meticulously planning a Very Important shopping trip I’m yet to actually embark on (where I plan to bulk buy- with perhaps a touch of wishful thinking- sun cream) I thought I’d share one of my favourite song about hanging out in a field.
It turns out there’s actually quite a lot of competition for that title on the surface- ‘Fields of Gold’, ‘Strawberry Fields Forever’, ‘Cotton Fields’ etc- but since this one’s subject matter is a rave type of thing it seems more appropriate.
Plus I’d really like it if when I randomly dropped “mother, I can never come home again, because I seem to have left an important part of my brain somewhere” (which happens fairly often) people didn’t stare at me like I was a psychopath.
So come listen to one of my favourite Pulp songs with me after the jump, and if we collectively think summer hard enough, maybe it’ll remain so for longer. Somehow.