Jamie was seventeen: two years older than me, yet he seemed to be so much wiser and more worldly than the boys of my age. He wore a leather jacket and black ripped jeans, not hand or manufacturer ripped, but rips that came from his work at the building site; a life that seemed worlds apart from mine. In fact our lives were so different that we were destined to be together. I was into Culture Club; he was into Talking Heads. I went nightclubbing; he saw live bands. He had already left school to apprentice in a trade. He smoked. He drank. He was every private school girl’s dream and their parent’s worst nightmare. He was my first love.

My daughter has reached an age where she is interested in dating, and as she talks to me about her crushes I am reminded of Jamie. Needless to say, after a little while we both lost interest; Culture Club and Talking Heads were never going to share the same stage (subsequently I fell for a boy who introduced me to The Clash).

And as the parade of hopefuls revolve through my front door in hope of luring my daughter, I try not to be too alarmed if they are not quite as I imagined. I am reminded that in life a diverse music collection is better than a generic one.

I find myself, in a beautiful house, with a beautiful life, and yes I do ask myself: How did I get here? I’m not entirely sure, but what a great ride it’s been…

‘And you may find yourself living in a shotgun shack

And you may find yourself in another part of the world

And you may find yourself behind the wheel of a large automobile

And you may find yourself in a beautiful house, with a beautiful wife

And you may ask yourself-Well…How did I get here?’

Once in a lifetime by Talking Heads

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