I love music

I consider my taste quite eclectic. Two days ago I was enjoying Handel's Messiah on the 331st anniversary of its first performance. Today I've been listening to the Art of Noise.

I have lots of music that brings specific memories, and that's the reason for this post. I can associate nearly every event in my life with a song. I also have music for people. Jeff Buckley's Hallelujah reminds me of Ashley. Call The Shots reminds me of John. Due Tramonti reminds me of Cathal. I probably have one for you too. Yes Juzz, I've one for you as well.

Then there is the track below. It makes me giggle and reminds me of someone. An ex, but we won't worry about that.

"When she said 'Simon' you were the last person I was expecting!" I said as I walked over to him.

"I'm sorry, do I know you?" he replied.

"I'm Rob, I'm your blind date, and you don't remember me at all, do you?"

"No, sorry, but I'm pleased to meet you," he said as he stood to shake my hand in a very gentlemanly fashion.

"We've met. A few times actually."

"Really?"

"Yes. And unless you've moved, I can tell you exactly where you live. You still share a house with Dominic and Chewwy, right?"

Chewwy was a nickname for Greg, who was very hairy and 6ft 7in tall. Everyone called him Chewwy.

"Dominic has moved on but Chewwy is still there. How do you know them?"

"I'm Chewwy's ex."

His face was a picture. "You've put some weight on since then."

"Just a tad."

It was understandable he didn't know me. I was thinner and younger the last time he'd seen me, and I wasn't wearing glasses back then. Anyway, the night went smoothly and I saw him again a few nights later. After six weeks he asked if I'd like to stay at his for the weekend. "Chewwy is away, so we'd have the place to ourselves," he said, "but I'm afraid I have to be in work for 6am on Saturday."

So Friday night we went to bed about 2am, both a little drunk, him laughing about being a state for work.

It felt like five minutes later when his alarm went off. I pretty much had to be peeled from the ceiling.

His alarm was his stereo. Because he was a heavy sleeper, he had the volume set to 11. As Tina Turner blasted out at 5.30am, I remember screaming. Imagine those opening drums when you're still drunk, only been in bed for three hours and only asleep for two of those.

Once my heart had settled down, I told Simon there wasn't a hope in hell I was taking him to work. He decided he was in no state to go either, so we stayed in bed for the rest of the day.

I never saw him again after that. I rang him a few days later to arrange another date and he said he didn't think it was working out. Six weeks. This was standard for my relationships at the time. Friends called it Six Week Syndrome. Either I got bored and left them, or I gave them reason to finish with me. Simon was another statistic.

So Goldeneye will forever make me laugh about that night. It also makes me smile. Simon was lovely really. No idea why we didn't last, but I also don't care. I've got someone far superior who has way more than just one song in the album of my memory.

*I can still recall his actual address and postcode.

**I did see him again about a year later. Drinking in a bar with my then partner Pete, I bumped into Simon. Many drinks later, Pete was talking to strangers and I was down a back alley with Simon. Classy, eh?