My iTunes library is not something I would ever share with the world. It's too embarrassing and revealing of my hopelessly teenage taste in cheesy pop and - worse - soft rock and electronica.
My friend Mr Farringer, who is an ex-professional musician and current and continued arbiter of excellence in modern music, sometimes makes me CDs, which I greatly enjoy and which teach me a little something about 'good' music. I like this approach, and wish that I could find other, similarly talented individuals to teach me about paintings, good clothes and wine.
I make Mr Farringer the odd CD, and he's very sweet to me and doesn't laugh in my face.
So, anyway, today Herself toddled off to Hibernia for a few days, and I decided to make myself a poptastic CD to play while I sit in the eyrie writing like a demon (and as badly). So I've got Kylie's new one on there, but otherwise it's a gentle stroll round the crappest, naffest pop you can imagine. Brilliant. The dog managed to pull one of her own claws off earlier today, so she's feeling a little bit downcast, but I can tell that she too has been buoyed by my latest CD.
But maybe my rubbish CDs should join my other hidden talents, expertly bad disco dancing, and expertly bad musical theatre anthems sung at high volume. Maybe I should embrace their rubbishness, and get them out at parties.
Or maybe I should save them for dancing round the eyrie...
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