It is mostly a blur to me, a phase in between, something of the premise of what was to come already there. Vivi had just spent some six months in Coimbra and then Lisbon and there was the vague plan to move out of Portugal, find something "in Europe" for both of us to stay together. Nothing definite.
Bloc Party, Baquet
And yet, there was something creeping under my skin. The only clear idea in the midst of the blur that comes from that period, is the memory of a party in Frágil were I got the most drunk to date and I decided to rank my degree of drunkness by my willingness to vote for Cavaco for President of the Republic (I havent't got to that point yet, although I have sometimes reached the point when I thought he was not so bad). I have smiled as much as I did that night, but never for so long in a row.
Something was creeping under my skin. An idea. Here, there, wherever, I was definitely gonna be an indie kid.
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