A BANANA, IN PYJAMAS, AND MUSIC THERAPY

Today, I danced in the kitchen in my pyjamas like the alcoholic housewife that I probably am.  At my feet lay a trodden banana; on the kitchen worktop, an obese fly barfing on a piece of toast; at my side, an overflowing bin smelling of, erm, what’s it called again, that most evocative of smells, oh yes, SHIT. But did I care? No I didn’t. I just danced and I danced and I fantasised. About crazy lovely stuff.

And why was I dancing? Well, because I was listening to some tunes for a ‘Music Therapy’ blog I’ve been tagged to write by the awesomely prolific Motherventing and Older Single Mum. (Now, before I start, I want to point out that when I say ‘therapy’ I don’t mean “real” therapy, oh no, no, NO, I don’t need “real” therapy, not at all, I’m just tired, real tired, that’s all. Hey, just because I might have stopped dancing at one point, and started weeping for no apparent reason, and then, having caught sight of myself in the mirror, started punching myself in the thigh and screaming ‘fat, fat, fat”, and then “loser”, before weeping again, and then laughing, and then properly drooling, it doesn’t mean anything, honestly it doesn’t, nothing that a good night’s sleep wouldn’t sort out…)

But you’re right. I should probably sit down for a minute. I should probably just SHUT THE FUCK UP and play some music I like.

So here goes.

Windmills of your Mind. Noel Harrison. I’m a hippy at heart, and my brain is almost entirely made up of circles, apples, windmills, and cavernous hollows. (To those staring blankly: LIKE.IN.THE.SONG.) In fact, if you needed a 3D model of my brain for the purposes of say, a lobotomy, you could do worse than going to Mothercare and buying one of those shape sorters. Of course, the appeal of the song is more than just that. Even my partner loves it. And he doesn’t usually have time for people who can’t tell the difference between “keys that jingle in their pockets” and “words that jangle in their heads”, i.e me, and hippies. And he can do Excel.

The second is Back to Black, Amy Winehouse. I LOVE this song. I LOVE her voice. I don’t know what else to say except that it’s utterly crap that she’s dead.

Choosing the third tune has been a nightmare. I thought about Lou Reed, Velvet Underground, White Stripes, Alicia Keys, Motown, Blondie, all sorts. And then today, I heard this. “You to Thank”. Ben Folds. I’m addicted. This song is why I was dancing in my pyjamas in the kitchen, and weeping,  and properly drooling - and from my mouth - when I should have been killing flies, clearing out bins, and mopping floors.  

Finally, thanks thanks thanks to the fab Mamywoo for making this lovely meme happen in the first place. I'm now tagging Adventures of a Middle Aged Matron,  Three Little Flowers, and Kate Takes 5 x

PS: I wasn’t drooling from my front bottom. Of course I wasn’t. I don't know why I said it. 

That’s just gross.

PPS: My partner has just read this blog and is extremely pissed off that I didn’t mention the fact that ‘Windmills of Your Mind’ is part of his “brilliant and extensive record collection”, and furthermore, that he was the one who introduced me to it. He would also like to point out that I “always leech off his musical tastes” and then claim them as my own. And also,  that he CAN’T do Excel.