Monday, 9 July 2012

Vingt et un

My 21st birthday was a relatively mild affair.  I spent the day getting mashed in and out of the pubs of the delightful suburb of Broomhill. The day is chiefly remembered by pub quiz bores as the occasion on which the Grand National was declared void and by my friends for their beloved Blades getting tonked in an FA Cup semi final by their deadly rivals Sheffield Wednesday.  The revels ended at about 9.30pm when I fell asleep face down on a table in the Duke of York.

Not being much of a sports fan the high point for me was the record fair I attended earlier that day at the Leadmill.  It was my birthday so I was probably pretty lavish but the only record I can recall buying was a Francoise Hardy album, Francoise Hardy in English.  I bought it because I'd heard this song on the radio.

Francoise Hardy All Over The World


  1. You can remember what you did on your 21st at least (well, up until 9:30pm).

    As the record will show, I love Françoise.
    I'm forever rummaging in junk shops when we're in France hoping to find secondhand copies of her 60s LPs; pas de chance so far.

  2. It's all a bit sketchy, I only really remember a friend throwing his cigarette at the telly in disgust at full time, and then much later thinking to myself how nice a pub the York was.

    I found a nice copy of one of her albums a few weeks ago in my most reliable charity shop, it's just called Françoise Hardy (thanks for the cedilla). It's the one with the cover design as a crate. Gatefold sleeve, v. heavy vinyl.