Deeply Shocked...part the second

Serendipity, unlike good cheer (see previous), is not dependent on the stability or otherwise of the global financial markets. Indeed, it is in the very nature of the thing to pop up where and when least expected.

H and I were on a rare day out, taking in a neighbouring town and its delights. Though as befits a man and a wife our lives are joined at more than the odd hip, what we respectively look for in such a place must differ.

For she it will be a more than decent little Italian restaurant in which to take a fine luncheon, or a shop piled high in pastel household goods of great appeal and little practical purpose. Self will, naturally, nose out the local Church or Chapel for a particular memorial or architectural quirk, but other than that I am not much moved unless I spot an inn with a fair sized pool table and a gang of players who appear to know their game. (Few if any indeed spot the hustler behind the dog-collar as I seemingly fluke the black off three cushions and clean up the cash. No word to H or the Bish I beg!)

But as we strolled down the High Street a marvel came upon us both. For there, in a dusky courtyard corner, was one of those fine old music shops bursting with CDs of the music of our youth. Hard ever to know whether these fellows are in it for the trade as such. Mostly seems more a case of shifting a private collection into a public place for admiration and delight rather than for monetary gain.

Rarely, if ever, do I enter such a shop - we will call it that - in search of a particular song. It is much more a matter of relishing the prospect of being confronted with an album one had long forgotten existed. They really are the best of memories - those that are absent until of a sudden reappearing. Totally Proust really.

So we wandered and gazed therein, meandering through the racks of disks and the years gone by. Look, 'The Housemartins' before they became urban legends. Ah here, Jerry Garcia's first solo album! See, 'Bird On A Wire' never bettered. And so forth.

Then a little humming tune began to come before me. Simple strumming guitar and soft melody, sweet female voice and a half-recalled lyric. "Anchored down in Anchorage Alaska" it alliteratively went. Dum dum dee dum, dum dum dee dum (but with more gentle bounce than the words can convey of course).

The joy of such a place is that one can take such a fragmented tale to the counter and, with but a very brief sucking on teeth, the hairy being who holds sways gets it first time. "Michelle Shocked, that's who you mean. Album 'Short, Sharp, Shocked'. Haven't got it in at present. Shall I order it?"

Well, yes of course he shall. The song and the singer were precious enough to want to repossess, but it was more than that. For some many summers past, when H and I were first as one, we had been venturing for a day's pleasure into N and happened to spot, as we strolled, that Miss Shocked - whose music appealed to us both - was appearing that one and only night at the local theatre. But oh grief following sudden joy, all tickets were gone! We locked out, as the jargon of the day went.

Was it that that had triggered the nascent memory? All very possible. Sufficient possibility for me later that evening to take a Google check on the fate, fortune and forthcoming tour dates of Miss Shocked since that long ago time.

Deeply shocked to report - no avoiding the pun, in fact relishing it - the dear woman is to be performing once more in N but a few weeks hence! This time there will be no missing her. Two tickets are duly purchased courtesy of the modern miracle of online booking and we are set fair to attend.

I am already humming quite my favourite of all - 'Memories of East Texas'. The tune is in my head and most of the lyrics are re-emerging. "piney green rolling hills", "...and I mean to tell you my friends they weren't no easy roads", "...down by Kelsey Creek and detour through something something something". It's coming. I'm getting there.

Could look it up I guess, but I prefer to let the memory surface as it will. That's the beauty of serendipity.