The rich darkness, the crazy swirls that led
to all five corners of the boozy room.
Sometimes I'd sit and breath in the carpet's heady perfume.
Let my eyes follow the patterns...
the shimmering dust motes.
Here is Grandad's Hi-Fi. Let's contextualise this for a moment...
Grandad was the kind of man who bought expensive whiskey.
The kind of man who bought expensive coffee.
But only once.
He'd re-fill the whiskey bottle with a budget blend.
He'd re-fill the coffee jar with some horror powder.
Then smile knowingly, thinking he'd fooled everybody
but had fooled nobody because no-one was dumb enough to let on.
So the Hi-Fi was very Lo-Fi.
It came in a cabinet made of something that was supposed to resemble wood.It had a lot of silvery coloured plastic and fancy lights that flashed
but did nothing to improve the sound.
It all got closed behind a smoked glass door
that looked very sophisticated in 1984.
He'd rigged up the speakers so that they hung in the corners of the room.
But they still sounded awful.
As if someone had filled them with cheap whiskey
and powdered coffee.
But this was sacred ground. The place where I first heard Sgt. Peppers,
let it take my imagination somewhere through the dust motes
and into the weave of the magic carpet.