On Sunday mornings, after my traditional sleep in, we all tend to tackle the house’s shortfalls, of which there are many. Horatio is excused from this activity as he choses to stand on a field in 32 degree heat waiting to perhaps throw a ball at someone.

So I tried very hard to be enthusiastic about walking around the house putting things away. I even have a song that I sing while I do it!

“Putting things away, putting things away!

All I do all day…

Is put the things away!”

TM Mrs Woog

I also have a song that when I sing it, I guarantee get a park right our the front of where I need to be. I didn’t make this one up. My sister did.

“Woog. Executive. Parking!” but when you sing PARKING, everyone in the car needs to snap their fingers to make the magic happen. Obvioulsy, replace Woog with your family name.

I told Jack he was in charge of the playlist. He went and fiddled with the computer and away we went. I was putting things away, he was wiping down benches, Mr. Woog was on the vacuum and then a song came on which gives me incredible irritations.

I cannot for the life of me remember what it was, as this did actually occur 24 hours ago and my mind is a colander, but I raced into the office to turn that dreadful song off when I noticed what Jack had typed into the search engine.

Ok, so a but cute but also quite patronising. Listen up son.

Back in my day, musicians and bands made real music. They were actually allowed to be unattractive! They made whole albums and went on tours where they used to throw televisions into swimming pools while snorting drugs off trays being carried by monkeys dressed as leprechauns.

You were born in 2006. The same year that soppy sap James Blunt starting singing about being beautiful. Side note, I do enjoy following Mr. Blunt on Twitter. A most endearing chap.

Me? I am a 1973 vintage. Manly won thee NRL Grand final and Gogh Whitlam was the Prime Minister. And I was being exposed to music. Proper fucking music with verses and choruses.

My parents were BIG into Simon and Garfunkel.

We had Elton John, Stevie Wonder, Aretha Franklin and Suzi Quatro.

I have done a fair bit of research on this post and have listened to many song that revoke amazing memories.

I listened to “Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Old Oak Tree…” and then read dozens of comments underneath it. On YouTube.

Oh Paolo, I am not crying but I totally get it.

So in closing, I suppose I shouldn’t be offended that my son thinks I am a bloody dag who does get Cardi B, real name Belcalis Marlenis Almánzar, born in the year that I started my university degree. I should be happy with the fact that he was thoughtful enough to try to compromise.

What was the music of your youth?