The Pogues: Rainy Night In Soho [purchase]
I remember it well.
The table is strewn with empty pint glasses, the ash tray is overflowing and last orders were called longer ago than the man behind the bar cares to remember. Reluctantly, you stagger out into the hazy London evening, the streets wet and glistening and the icy drizzle doing its utmost to keep you awake long enough to find your way to the tube station. At Piccadilly Circus you go your separate ways - some head home, some wander off in search of a late license. You'll see everyone again tomorrow, of course, thirsty as ever.
Except when you don't. Rainy nights in Soho seem an awfully long way away now, preserved in romantic memories of the good times, untainted by anything but an intellectual understanding that there were bad times too. We watched our friends grow up together and we saw them as they fell: some of them fell into Heaven, some of them fell into Hell. Too true, and one can't help but wonder which way one would or could have fallen had one just tripped one time too many.
The swooning romance of this song always appealed to me, romantic that I was. That I am. You're the measure of my dreams, Shane tells his companion, and our hearts soar. One day I met the measure of mine and she made sure I didn't fall into Hell. This week's theme is in honour of St. Patrick's Day, of course, but I think I'll break ranks and wish everyone a Happy Persian New Year instead: it's about renewal and hope, and my fervent hope is that when you fall you fall into Heaven too.
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