Grief is an odd thing.
Morrisons, a train to Liverpool Street, a Mini showroom, an Italian restaurant in Brighton over an excellent bowl of Spaghetti Bolognese; all have been places where I have inexplicably burst into tears since July's event, despite holding it together at what might otherwise be considered to be the normal time and place for a good cry.
To be honest, Blue Christmas is one of those faux-sentimental Christmas songs that had pretty much passed me by over the years yet, last week, in the fast lane of the M42, I suddenly went into floods when it came onto the generic fruit-based device. Unable to move over to the inside lane because of weight of traffic and unable to stop, I drove for the best part of 20 miles gulping air and wiping tears from my cheeks.
Repeated plays haven't elicited the same response and I wouldn't have felt duty-bound to add it the calendar until I came across this live version with Elvis and Ms McBride, the duet is superb and it's worth it just to see Presley looking so effortlessly cool.
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