I was driving to work and the radio was playing a Smiths song. And I was 17 again, playing pool in the sixth form common room.
Well, clearly I wasn't. I was actually 39, clapped out and anxiously threading a car between Latvian trucks on the M6, but you get the idea.
Then the song finished and the DJ talked about former Smiths frontman Morrissey's recent difficulties on his live tour, including his Hamburg show where he got a fan thrown out.
"You know," he said, "Morrissey needs to lighten up a little."
Lighten up? Lighten up?
This is Morrissey. Lantern-jawed and bequiffed, the merchant of moodiness. This is the man who sang a ballad with lyrics about being crushed by a ten-ton truck. He makes Leonard Cohen look like Bobby McFerrin. He could no more lighten up than I could dance the pase doble.
And I'm no dancer.