
Cardi: White Stuff. Dress: H&M via eBay. Boots: Duo via eBay. Necklace: Next
I was thinking earlier about how far music triggers memories. Not just of situations, but of people. 3 Daft Monkeys, for example, are an Alan band, because from my point of view he discovered them. He gets a few Levellers tracks, too. Abba makes me think of a gig Becky, Sarah and I went to years ago. Wonderwall transports me back to sixth form with a select group of friends, as does pretty much anything by Pulp. Gangsta’s Paradise and I Got Five On It make me feel like I should be sipping bacardi and coke in a rugby club, eyeing the dancefloor at someone’s 18th. Dizzy and No Limits have me back at village discos (yeah, they probably were as cheesy as they sound) with some specific memories from several years previously. If anybody for some reason mentions New Kids On The Block, Joanna comes to mind. I hear Bon Jovi, I think Louisa. Skunk Anansie tunes trigger memories of University, as does Killing In The Name Of and Higher State of Consciousness. Tori Amos and Kate Bush, though, make me think specifically of Kate
Various colleagues are associated with various bands. Just for starters, there’s an S Club 7 track that, despite me never having liked it, has been hanging round on compilation discs and ipod playlists for 12 years because it reminds me of giggles from my first job and therefore makes me smile whenever I hear it. Take That are Alison’s. Bryan Adams is definitely a Lindsay memory prompt. A particular Whitney Houston track reminds me of someone who used to have it as her ringtone.
In the family, The Cult are firmly my sister’s band, and so is Duran Duran. My brother seems to own the Black Crowes, Hendrix, Metallica and Jane’s Addiction despite being a continuing influence in the music I listen to and thus having evolved his interests a bit. Jazz = Dad. Recent, this – he’s only discovered an interest in music since becoming legally blind and thus losing the hobby of reading. Mum, in my head, owns Queen and the Beatles.
Karen and Julie get the 80s. Get texted a fair amount of it, too!
They’re all over the place, these memories and person-associations. There’s something rather nice about being pinballed around the recesses of my memory as I listen to a playlist of edited highlights on shuffle.






