Tubthumping

Today, in quick succession, I heard Chumbawamba’s ’97 hit ‘Tubthumping’.

“He sings the songs that remind him of the good times,
He sings the songs that remind him of the better times.”

Like watching my life flash before me, or the season of Dallas that turned out to be Bobby Ewing’s dream, I was bombarded with colourful snippets. There was jumping up and down at nights in the University Guild – the song became an anthem for my generation of Uni-goers. There were the great times with my best friend Joel in that year. The large, life-size cut-outs of Scarey and Sporty Spice put in out flat’s common-room window with speech bubbles quoting Billy Bragg and philosophers at passers-by. There was our email being answered by the people building the Millennium Dome, where we asked what the volume of the dome was so we could estimate how many tins of beans would fit in it and they guessed the number for us. There was being inspired by Mark Thomas to seek out the artwork of those who side-stepped inheritance tax by saying it was open to the public – we never did see ‘portrait of a dutch girl’.

“I get knocked down
but I get up again
You’re never gonna keep me down”

There was writing sections of a ‘Have I Got News For You Spoof’ for the comedy society. There was juggling and plate-spinning with the circus society. There were the evenings drinking pints of tea and eating pizza and chips on china plates in front of washing machines in the laundrette. There were the afternoons spent under the shade of the ‘Old Joe’ clock tower in the centre of campus meeting friends and revising outside of the library. There was watching Mark and Lard support Slade at Music Live at the NEC. There were the wine-and-cheese Sunday diets, and the tub of lard bought to prove to other shoppers in Sainsburys that we really were the most unhealthy shoppers – it fitted nicely beside our vegetarian feast of Linda McCartney’s pies and sausages. There was going to a club on a whim, and being dumbfounded at the fact someone had made a club that was dark, with a black floor where no more than 6 consecutive square feet were on the same level (so many steps).
There was fun, naivety, spontaneity… and did I say fun?