None Shall Sleep! At least that�s what I believe it means. In answer to Laura Hird�s question asking what songs hold special meaning for her readers, it got me thinking. Thinking is something I don�t have much time for lately, but I took the question on my recent holiday to Gran Canaria, along with my iPod, family and a tonne of baggage and pondered by the side of the pool.

I love the song itself, but Pavarotti�s song doesn�t affect me in the way it should. It makes me think of the football World Cup in Italy,1990. They played it all the time as the event�s signature tune. I think the words are about some kind of Romeo and Juliet style opera, but I see Gazza crying, Lineker making signs at the bench, the deflected German goal (I still think it won�t go in, every time I see it!), the penalty misses and a sense of hope that England might win the World Cup and finally the disappointment when they didn�t. Why the strong thoughts? I was nineteen. Real male bonding going on, testosterone and beer flowing � it was a great month. I had plenty of good times after that, but the camaraderie was fantastic. I can think of other songs with strong associations of growing up, so why this one? Although I don�t understand the words, it feels inspirational. Perhaps that�s all it is?

I thought about the previous World Cup, the signature tune for that � the Mexican bloke somersaulting, the Italian shaking his arms after a goal. This triggered thoughts about what I was doing during that tournament in 1986. The matches were late in the evening � sometimes kicking off around ten. At fifteen, I used to watch them at home with my mum. Dad wasn�t around, so we sat and watched together. Like most mums, she hates football. I remember sitting with cups of tea, chicken sandwiches made at half time, boring her silly with schoolyard football yarns.

Having clocked up some experience in the twenty years since, picking up two great kids along the way, I acknowledged the memory � long forgotten � and realised why she sat up with me, even though she had to get up very early in the morning. It definitely wasn�t to watch the bruising encounters between Argentina and Uruguay, that�s for sure.

Four years later, pissed in the pub with most of the country and Pavarotti � and I�d grown up. The parental bond wasn�t broken, but I�d stretched it. I wonder if she watched it?

My mum loves �Nessun Dorma� too. She played it when I was even younger. I haven�t seen her much lately. Too busy. I should get my arse over there for a chicken sandwich and a cup of tea. Thanks, Pavarotti.

As far as a literary biography, there's nothing ... yet (apart from second prize in a rotary club competition when Steve was 10 - his mother thought he'd copied it from a book.) He is writing a novel at the moment (when he gets the time) - "Behind Closed Doors": a seedy collection of stories that have a loose connection to one another. Steve is 32, married, 2 kids, software developer for a bank in the city of London. Born to an Irish-American father, English mother. Raised in Battersea, he now lives out near Croydon in Surrey. Sports mad. Literature mad. Earliest recollection of writing something people would have noticed: a school magazine in primary school: a horror story detailing the murder and mutilation of all the teachers - with elaborate disposal plans that included tipping buckets of blood into the drains. How they included it, he'll never know. He recalls Dennis Nilsen was in the news at the time. To read a selection of Steve�s writing on the showcase section of this site, click here.

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