You know about Proust and his madeleine, right? How in In Search of Lost Time the little cake, a wash of flour, butter and sugar in the mouth, brings back a whole world? That beautiful line, “The sight of the little madeleine had recalled nothing to my mind before I tasted it”? Well, who knew that hearing Rod Stewart’s Tonight\'s the Night on the car radio yesterday would be my madeleine moment?
Suddenly, there I was: on the cusp of life, ready for everything. I was sixteen again, a “virgin child” myself, and that song — that daggy, daggy, so uncool song, sang by the so uncool Rod — bought everything from those summer months flooding back.
I remember the fizz of pleasure in my veins, the great, huge, impossible hopes I had, how my friends and I spoke endlessly about the mystery of sex that was awaiting us.
How I wish I had put in a bit of Rod Stewart now in My Hundred Lovers. Aint that the great wonder and pleasure of life? A cake? A song?