I have gone to bed with the laptop. My grandfather is watching Heartbeat with the volume cranked up (his hearing’s not what it used to be) and I decided to retire. I thought I’d amuse you with an account of the songs on the mental jukebox so far this weekend. For almost two days – Thursday and most of Friday – I had Agneta and Annifrid singing “One of us is lonely”, which got pretty tiresome. However, I did not crack until I managed to get “Fyra bugg och en coca-cola” stuck in my head after a trip to ICA at Torsby. It was especially bad as those five words are the only bit I know. So, upon leaving the place I asked my father to put some music on in the car. One round of Graceland later and I was (reasonably) happily humming “You don’t feel you could love me but I feel you could”. Today it’s been mostly eerily quiet, compensated for by a deluge this evening. We had “Do you want to know a secret?” earlier, but we’ve also had “The tracks of my tears”, “When I fall in love” (still as sung by Rick Astley, which I think is inconsiderate of him. Why does he have to hang around in my head and block Nat King Cole out? Doesn’t he have anything better to do?), “Kor e alle heltar hen?” (following Absolutt Norsk) and “What’s the name of the game”.
I wonder what, if anything, all this says about my mental state.
Voice in my head: (for no apparent reason) Paul Simon – The Myth of Fingerprints (though it’s difficult not to love that song for the brilliant “I’ve seen them all and, man, they’re all the same.”)