The evenings came in early all week, and the Lounge spent every one of them with the lamps on, a record turning and something worth pouring within reach. Here is the week, one night at a time.
Last Sunday played The Late Record, Played Slowly beside the review of You Want It Darker, then let The Whisky Comes Down close the night. Leonard Cohen had the last word.
Monday took The Table Nearest the Band, spent the evening Watching You’ve Got Mail Together with the review of You’ve Got Mail, and woke to The Morning the Fog Came In. New York in autumn is hard to argue with.
Tuesday opened The Long Book for the Long Nights, went under the spell of The Slow-Burn Hitchcock and the review of Vertigo, and poured The Aperitif in the Early Dark. San Francisco never looked so dizzy.
Wednesday sat through The Matinee on a Grey Afternoon, put on Listening to Dummy Together with the review of Dummy, and kept The Night With No Plans. Portishead suits a grey day.
Thursday carried The Paperback in the Coat Pocket, listened to The Debut at Dusk with the review of Songs of Leonard Cohen, and warmed up with The Hot Toddy. The first cold snap earned it.
Friday stood in on The Dress Rehearsal, took The Mezzanine Midnight Drive with the review of Mezzanine, and came home to The Soup on the Stove. Massive Attack drove the whole way.
Saturday had The Curtains Drawn Early, spent the afternoon Watching Amélie Together with the review of Amélie, and found The Underlined Passage before bed. Montmartre is small and generous.
This morning stopped at The Bookstore Window at Dusk, and the rest of today brings Casablanca for two with a tagine on the stove, a review of the film itself, and a bottle saved for winter in the evening. Round up the usual suspects.
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