Lifting my head above the glow of the uranium turntables to see outside the studio I can sense the cold air sidle up to the window like a filthy Aqualung trying to cadge some cigarettes and poking his running sore nose to the pane. It's a night best left loose in the back of the photo album with a reminder to maybe put the pictures away one day. On our night of lite here's a heavyweight living treasure, Paul Kelly.
How To Make Gravy
