Ah, Get Back Guinozzi!, my autumn love. When people talk about 2009 in retrospect, I will largely recall strobing lights and sweaty teenagers, fighting to be 30 inches closer to a crash barrier. But in the muted moments that move in slow motion, there’ll always be a small part of me that remembers the brief time we enjoyed together.

Is love too strong a word for my relationship with Carpet Madness? Perhaps. A lively, brief fling of tiny encapsulated moments might be more apt…

Being here with you reminded me of those misspent summer months of yore; when you played me ‘L.A’ on your makeshift instrument I recalled the Parisian picnics soundtracked by the teasing promise of Ladytron’s debut; and the sheer madness of ‘Personal Lodger’ felt like Yoko Ono was there, chain feeding me sherbet dib dabs.

Of course, in hindsight it was made all the more exciting in the knowledge that what we were doing was wrong; on the surface we were enjoying the merging of ideas into a sickly sweet brand of European indie pop. But there was always that other man lurking under the surface, keeping the excitement and danger alive.

Your ‘partner’ - Fred – tried to scupper our dreams by laying claim to your heart and 2nd floor apartment window with hooks passed down from Hook himself and the lo-fi eclecticism of a well-worn Stereolab E.P. collection. Eventually he won alas; truth be told, he was the better suitor - and indeed suited. Your marriage was a thing of youth and abandon that many could never hope to grasp.

But there’ll always be a bit of me that can close my eyes and revel in the European sunshine whenever I hear your quirky words and that innocent, exuberant voice of yours, Eglantine Gouzy.

The way you twisted that cover of Junior Murvin’s ‘Police and Thieves’ into a saccharine pop song was quite effortless; the way you teased my ears with made up words like "jungely" and simultaneously haunted my dreams with the barren ode "I don’t want to sleep alone"; and I’ll never forget the time you whispered into my ear "Daddy, daddy, I love your van". Actually, I never totally understood that part thinking back, but even your nonsensical gibberish was more charming than the average Jean-Pierre Jeunet film.

As the winter draws in, my thoughts wander back towards those dark venues and the world of blitzkrieg guitar amps. I’ll likely struggle to recall the fleeting joy you brought to my life in a years time barring the odd summer’s day of coincidental rediscovery over a cold Pastis; but hey… whilst it lasted? It was pretty good fun, wasn’t it?