Good Girl

Last week at work, and I'm sorting out CDs for the van, and also books.  I've given myself restrictions which wouldn't exist in a world where I owned a Kindle and an i-pod.  It's kind of fun this way, forces me to make proper real decisions in Desert Island discs style, to really consider carefully what works for every occasion.  There's a book basket with interesting contents, it has mountain bike guides, walking guides, climbing guides, a bike haynes manual, just one book of poetry, one book of fiction, one cook book, and it probably speaks volumes about me to anyone who cares to attempt that analysis.

Equally the CD collection is interesting, a mix of old and new and it becomes clear to all that I'm a lyrics girl.  I like edgy twisty songs, I don't like romantic love songs, I like things that make me think.  Equally I love a good rhythm and I quite like a folky tune, and enjoy a beautiful voice, either male or female.  Billy Bragg is not making the cut because he only ticks four out of five boxes, that's how picky I've had to become.  Train's California 37 looks like making the cut, as does Fort Minor, but so too will Bruce Springstein.  Finding something to suit every mood is interesting, will anything classical make it in or perhaps for that there's the radio.  Chumbawamba as a voice from my past might just squeeze in, who knows, and maybe I'll start to breach the rules on just how much space I use to accommodate music.  Because even self imposed rules are there to be broken. No more "ought", "should", "have to" here.

I'm loving my last weeks of handover from one life until the next.  It's been about appreciating what I have and what will stay with me, it's about acknowledging and loving the people who make up my life, my friends who give me joy.  It's about climbing in the sunshine with a lovely lady from Manchester Uni, it's about planning a road ride and having a meal cooked for me with a friend only made in the last year, it's about giggling with a friend of 20 years duration as we organise a weekend, it's about good friends where contact is easy and life is laughter.

And because I'm nostalgic, I bring you Chumbawamba's bad dog.  I still have ticket stubs from the very early 1990s when I first became transfixed by this band.

"This is heaven This is hell This is living This is tale to tell"