Anchorage

I don't go into Oxfam shops very often. (The reasons, briefly: They do much harm in the third world, they don't clearly label their clothes by size, their secondhand books are ludicrously overpriced.) But I wandered into one a month or so ago and, as I was moving to leave, Anchorage came on the sound system. I lingered by the tatty handbags and the filthy bric-a-brac for the next few minutes, until the last note had finished, just so happy to hear that song.

I first heard Anchorage during David Letterman's last week hosting his show (to which I was hopelessly devoted) on NBC back in 1993. That week, he had his favourite bands and musicians on to play his favourite songs, and he had Michelle Shocked come on to sing this. I was completely gobsmacked, and thankful I'd taped the show. I wore that tape out. (That was also the week that, for better or for worse, I discovered 10,000 Maniacs. They performed a storming version of Stockton Gala Days that made me feel as if every cell in my body was vibrating. The next week, they broke up. Story of my life.)

Today, after a lazy morning spent reading and writing in bed, Antoine made us lunch. Then we went out for a walk and a wander around our neighbourhood, around charity shops so I could buy more books, to the market for vegetables and watermelon. I felt - feel - so content, so lucky. We came home, and Antoine watched football while I cooked soup for supper and listened to Anchorage. It was a good day.