Seems like there’s a hole in my dreams, or so it seems…

Elephant Stone by The Stone Roses came on the radio as I was driving back from work tonight and it triggered an odd memory from 20 years ago.

I was at university and someone accused me of being a “sad indie kid”, which wasn’t that far off the mark since I was in the Modern Life is Rubbish-era Blur garb of rolled up jeans, big Doc Marten boots and a Fred Perry top. Mind you, in my head I wasn’t being ‘indie’, I was being ‘mod’, as far as my understanding of that term went at the time, given that Blur had only just started the revival. ((Interestingly, my normal attire nowadays still consists of a Fred Perry top (M12 original cut, of course) and jeans. Sometimes I’ll even be in Doc Martens, although it’s been a loooong time since I’ve bought the 16 hole boots.))

I wouldn’t have minded but the person who levelled the accusation at me was an archetypal Stone Roses fan, wearing the Stone Roses uniform of flared jeans, long sleeved t-shirt and fisherman hat (aka ‘Reni hat’). He was also talking in a stupid Mancunian accent, although to be fair, I think he was actually from Manchester (or so he claimed) so that was probably excusable. He couldn’t have been more cartoonishly ‘indie’ if he tried. If anyone was giving scores out of 10 on the sad-indie-kid-o-meter, I may have been an 8, but he was an 11.

Funny how songs can trigger memories like that. Maybe writing about it will exorcise it completely.

Post title lyrics taken from The Stone Roses – Elephant Stone, obvs.

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