Totally unseasonal, but I introduced my younger beardy brother to the Hawley a few years ago, and I was pleased to find out tonight, while being entertained down his and his wife's new dog-filled abode, that Rogers Junior and Richard are still in love. It's fine, my brother's wife knows, as she was being serenaded by the velvety Northerner too. It's quite the menage.
I have a horrible, horrible cold, and have been up most of the night hot, bothered and hallucinating, so I am now mainlining the hot orange and trawling YouTube for comforters. I'd already listened to a ton of Richard Hawley and Johnny Cash, when the latter brought me to this version of the song Bob Dylan first put to tape in 1962. I've now listened to this Nashville Skyline classic three times in a row, making me think that Dylan should become my new love for the new year.
I've heard this not once, not twice, but three times today, the first time on local radio in the car, the second burbling away on a pub jukebox on TV, and the third on Magic FM while catching up with old friends from comprehensive over pizza and plonk. I'm still not bored of it either.
Sadly I can't post you a clip of us in the Dunvant Rugby Club tonight, swimming with mince pies and Old Speckled Hen as we sang to the gods at the bar, but I can post you a clip of my favourite traditional Christmas song. Imagine the choirboys that much older, drunker and Welsh-er, and you'll get the general idea.
God, am I fed up of Christmas songs today. If you are too, and are spending the day packing presents or cleaning the house like an idiot, as I am, here's my tip: put Born On The USA on at full volume. No Surrender, in particular, makes the floor sweeping that much more interesting.