Music To My Ears

This time last year I was krumping around the living room to Beyonce’s Put A Ring On It, in the style of Justin Timberlake and Paul Rudd. These days, Bootylicious B’s lyrics of “All the single ladies” have been replaced with “All the yummy mummies” and my prancing around takes the form of actions to correspond with Do-Re-Mi from The Sound Of Music.

I used to rock out to Juliet and the Licks while stuck in traffic on the North Circular, my favourite song (Death Of a Whore) sounding something like “F*** f*** f*** f*** you and f*** you and f*** you some more, F*** you and f*** you and f*** you some more, F*** you and f*** you and f*** you some more, F*** you and f*** you and f*** you some more, F*** you and f*** you and f*** you some more, F*** you, f*** you, f*** you, f*** you, f*** you, f*** you, f*** you some more.”

(Please excuse the explicit nature of this post, but if you have ever been gridlocked on the A406 during rush hour, you will know how easily even a nun could be reduced to such a sing-a-long).

The only CD in the car today is Jewel’s Lullaby. And instead of downloading Lady Gaga’s new hit from iTunes, I spend my £0.79s on Shirley Temple’s version of The Good Ship Lollipop.

Rather than going out until the wee hours, dancing around to Britney Spears’ Womanizer (“Womanizer woman-womanizer, you’re a womanizer OH womanizer OH you’re a womanizer baby…”) I am awake, in bed, after the 3am feed with the following lyrics whirling through my over-exhausted brain: “The wonderful thing about Tiggers! Is tiggers are wonderful things! Their tops are made out of rubber! Their bottoms are made out of springs!”

The tune is so hyper that I'm buzzing long ofter baby has dropped off. Forget Princess Chubby Thighs - maybe I should be the one listening to lullabies...