It'll be a low-key affair. Just two hours of me talking about some (mostly) old records I particularly like, then playing them. Not the same ones I'd choose now, or if someone asked me for my top 15 records of all time. Just the ones that occurred to me a fortnight ago.
I'm not going to wallow in nostalgia, or not much. I plan - of course I do - to write about some of my more extreme, name-dropping wireless, rock'n'roll and journalistic adventures - drunk with REM in Athens, all too horribly sober with Britt Ekland in, err...Inverness, in a Greenpeace dinghy as Skye Bridge contractors attacked us with giant boulders, lost at 2.00am in the wilds of Compton, LA, stalking The Clash through a series of Glasgow pubs. John Major mistaking me for a traffic policeman...oh, I could go on and on. And I do, often.
Anyway, a special thanks to those who have listened. And for those who have perhaps wondered what the mysterious Loft of Love looks like - the attic redoubt in my Shetland home whence Morton through Midnight came - maybe the wee video here will help.