Flossingthecat was dancing on mashed bananas when, unbidden into her mind came the image of Me, hunched over a record of Doris Day. And so, intrigued, perhaps that a vicar's wife would listen to anything so raunchy, she's tagged me into sharing music that thrills me.
Doris will have to top the list, naturally. But what to choose? That forsenic analysis of the human condition, 'Booglie Wooglie Piggy: Oink Oink' or the optimists' anthem 'Que Sera Sera'? I decide to go radical. Interminable motorway journeys are relieved by the shifting pictures sketched by clouds and so I shall always empathise with Joni Mitchell, as improved upon by the Girl Next Door.
There is, beneath my thermal layering, a cool woman waiting to break out. For I have, now and then, ventured beyond the 1950s and sniffed the cultural air. I've tried Dolly Parton and The Monkees. I've even made it into the 80s with the parting shots of Abba.
But my coolest moment came when I was trailing a duster over the vicarage skirting and from the radio came song which launched me onto the coffee table in a spontaneous, elastic-muscled jive - just me and my can of Pledge. Eight years on, it still causes me to do acrobatic things with my Miele:
When the recent past was less harmonious; when the future was frighteningly obscured, I would speed up into foggy hilltops and blast Karl Jenkins' The Armed Man from the car stereo. The transluscent chords of Agnus Dei would lift me out of the Skoda and into a realm where jobs and mortgages and self-pity seemed briefly trivial.
Due acknowledgments to Mammywoo for thinking up the idea in the first place. I tag Millsandboonwannbe for some melodic romance.