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Selections From 'Writing Home'

by London Fields

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1.
Boot 04:46
Words: All the winter mornings when we struggled in the dark To write letters to your lovers while your parents were at work Getting drunk in your front room when we should have been in school And laughing with the old boy in the park all afternoon You never knew where you were going to I always had to show you where to put your feet They all said you were kind and easy But you were hard to me Coats down to our ankles, on the towpath hand in hand I'm trying to hold you steady, 'cos you're thinking 'bout your man You always picked the wrong ones and I couldn't understand Why you fell in love with anyone who played in a rock band You never knew where you were going to I always had to show you where to put your feet They all said you were kind and easy But you were hard to me You were hard to me
2.
Words: I was dreaming when I wrote this; forgive me if I go too slow An easy Saturday morning Crying on the telephone Say "Doctor, I'm not good or bad, I'm just responsible" It took a long time to get back what was mine You took a long time to get over But if you're not afraid about stealing I guess I shouldn't be afraid about having it stolen And in between cheap cotton sheets And all the places that we'd meet So sickeningly incomplete and I don't think you'll ever be happy And standing here I'll catch my death but I could not be anywhere else and I'm Trying to forget myself and I don't think it really matters and... For all the suffering For all those things that I know that I've gone and done, well "Officer... I'm not good or bad, I'm just responsible" It took a long time to get back what was mine You took a long time to get over But if you're not afraid about stealing I guess I shouldn't be afraid about having it stolen And there's no sexual history, no candlelight or poetry Or twenty years in therapy We talk the night away And I can see those summer flies in circles round my bloodshot eyes As London evening turns to night And I shouldn't stay It's been good to see you and I'd love to stay But I've people to meet, and hearts to break And hearts to break
3.
Narco Bear 05:30
Words: The purity of driving has always been a sacred thing And on that night I felt we found a silent understanding You kissed me on the motorway, taking your eyes from the road And only in your car have I seen you unafraid Well, we told each other everything Or at least that's how it seemed Over all those sleeping policemen, restless in their dreams And we made policy decisions, like "There'll be no secrets in our bed" But then we said a lot of things that neither of us meant Well, did you put that on for me? Well, I'm not saying anything Maybe you want to watch TV That's how I'll remember you I wish that all the good times filled a reservoir within Somewhere deep and still and sacred where together we might drink But we had sleepless Friday nights when love was just a word And all the stars were aeroplanes falling back to Earth And on those narcoleptic Saturdays you walked me into town Took me to a coffee shop and slapped my face around And I can't say I miss it, but when I'm cold and blue And on the edge of sleeping, my whole body sings for you Hey, did you put that on for me? Well, I'm not saying anything Maybe you want to watch TV That's how I'll remember you But any self-respecting girl knows that you can't have it both ways Afraid I won't come round tonight and terrified I'll want to stay So I hear without me your life's painfully intense Not shackled to my jealousy bit lived within each precious moment When all I've got is fragments, fragments of a memory Of one night by the riverbank and your twenty lines of poetry So if the complexion on events as noted in this song Fails to meet your expectations, I suggest you write your own But did you put that on for me? Well, I'm not saying anything Maybe you want to watch TV That's how I'll remember you Hey! Did you put that on for me? Well, I'm not saying anything Maybe you want to watch TV That's how I'll remember you And I remember you
4.
Words: I don't know how it happened So cold when you're so far away But somewhere over Port Au Prince I lost control again, again Will you talk me down Will you help me land this plane Lying in my fever I feel you enter the dream And I move to accommodate the space Your body, your body used to be Will you talk me down Will you help me land this plane
5.
Words: She comes home at the weekends with a blues That a month of Sunday papers couldn't cure I gently stroke her hand, but there's nothing I can do To make it better And on her body politic I try to state my case As though we hadn't already lost the race But it's in the way she kisses me and written on her face And in her letters I was going to tell you I swear I was going to tell you this But they sold the language that I was going to tell you with And looking round this place Well, it seems like they sold everything Sing it to me now Sing it to me now I meet her on the clinic steps and take her arm But her cells divide and multiply Insensitive to all her charm So we drink ourselves ridiculous in the public bar Heamorrhaging time She walks me back to Paddington but the place is overrun By all those zen delinquents that your children have become And on these broken Monday mornings Boredom is not the only crime I was going to tell you I swear I was going to tell you this But they sold the language that I was going to tell you with And looking round this place Well, it seems like they stole everything Sing it to me now Sing it to me now And now is scene is over, we are hazy and impersonal We walk along the Serpentine not dressed for this rehearsal And in the autumn breeze, our sense of self disperses And our leaves begin to fall History won't judge us, but the Mail On Sunday will You can go clubbing seven nights a week and still not gain control Or get those six lucky numbers And the fucking bonus ball I was going to tell you I swear I was going to tell you this But they sold the language that I was going to tell you with And looking round this place Well, it seems like they stole everything Sing it to me now Sing it to me now
6.
Words: This is how it will end Tell the taxi to take me home I know what you're thinking, baby But it's getting very close We'll give away our money And lie in bed all day And earth and heaven Leeds and London All shall flee away When all our thoughts are rhetoric No wonder we go mad I'm going down the Pleasure Beach And never coming back An aeroplane falls from the sky Carrying your precious life And in the fire, death and fear This day was never ours, my dear But all the special things you kept The sickness and the cigarettes All the drugs and therapy Fly free When all our thoughts are rhetoric No wonder we go mad I'm going down the Pleasure Beach And never coming back Lots on blood and lots of crap Lots of everything in fact In such a small suburban room All the days fold into one But the time it took to sing these lines Was time spent with you on my mind I think about you all the time When all our thoughts are rhetoric No wonder we go mad I'm going down the Pleasure Beach And never coming back

about

July 2023:

In common with a bunch of early Chickpea Darlings and Spanish Amanda songs, there's been a touch of light remastering done here... just sorting out some inconsistencies in the levels between songs, really. For purists, though, you'll be pleased to hear that none of the original shortcomings (oh, those vocals...) have been addressed - hurrah..!! (Still as nasal as ever..!!). Enjoy..?!

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

June 2017:

"Writing Home" was a CDR album recorded in the mid-1990's in Worcester. Some of the songs were written much earlier. The best bits of the record are here. If you enjoy them, you'll probably also like The Spanish Amanda and the Chickpea Darlings." - Huw.

credits

released June 6, 1996

The songs were recorded by Huw and Ivan. The Yorkshire Amanda created the wide range of alternative sleeve designs which accompanied different batches of the CD (I think he had access to a colour printer at work, and would periodically materialise with wads of designs he'd been tinkering with). He also set up sequencing computers, took photos, shot video. Songs were written by Huw.

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about

London Fields Worcester, UK

A short-lived recording alias for Huw Darling (of the Chickpea Darlings), used for a year or so in the mid-1990's before developing into The Spanish Amanda. One CDR album and many, many odd tracks recorded - mostly now lost. Thanks for visiting; if you enjoy the London Fields songs, you might like The Spanish Amanda and the Chickpea Darlings too. ... more

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