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…into the fabulousness of this tune.

Esme, recalling herself a-spinning to it, arms wide she spins on, somewhere around the late 90’s at 8am with a bouquet of similar minded folks surrounding her, all smiles and love, back, back at some hopefully god forbidden party in Whalley Range, praying the far too thin curtains around the bay windows will hold out long enough for another, another, please another dance, before venturing out, hooded brows, peaked caps and sunglasses seeking the shade of a cab home, whilst others on the pavement pass, all proper-like, heading to work.

grins – pulling this beautiful shiny memory out to blind and share briefly.

Time.

Time.

Time folks.