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The things we do for love...

Posted 07-20-2008 at 12:00 AM by Soubrette

I am a woman of many obsessions, most of them short lived, last year, for example, was the year of the organic gardening, 6 or 7 big bags of soil, numerous large pots and a small bowl of chilis later and my enthusiasm had waned. This year has been the year of the moneysaving expert site, I cannot say how many free films I've watched, how many meals I've cooked from scratch or even when this current obsession will end, although I fear it has peaked.

But one passion of mine has stood the test of time, one thing moves me and that is music. Not any music, music has to make me want to move my body as well as my soul, too much classic music frankly makes my bum ache. No, the music that moves me (I must have been so baaaad in a former life) has to be trite and cliched, preferably power ballads sung by deep throated women. When the sun comes out after a long winter my heart really does swell and I want to fling my arms out and sing how the hills really are alive with the sound of music. Any disco is a reminder of that tainted love you gave me and I'll come on anytime Eileen and housework is an excuse for loud music and wondering (even louder) if it is in his eyes after all.

So please bear this embarrassing failing in mind when I say that I have just been the the best film of the year...Mama Mia, here we go again....it was nearly as good as last years best film of the year...sing-along-a-sound-of-music. There was some flimsy plot holding a whole load of great Abba songs together - most of which I knew all the words so it was a (very quiet) sing-along-an-abba evening. One thing that did stick out was that Meryl Streep is still very limber.

So a good time was had by all, apart from my long suffering husband who spent two hours not singing along, not laughing at the flimsy jokes and most certainly not enjoying Meryl Streep's singing. He also has to put up with listening to why it would be kinder if Jolene really didn't take my man while we're driving, and how me and Mrs Jones really should stop meeting like we do.

I suppose in return for this aural torture I am prepared to watch both golf and tennis but it does seem like I get the easier end of the deal.

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