I took a trip down a musical memory lane at the weekend – and I was horrified by what I found.
Now, when I was a teenager I used to love all the music which was out in the charts.
Lunchtime sing-a-longs at school, Radio 1 roadshows and great music to dance to in pubs and clubs were a key ingredient to a decade of growing up and entering adulthood.
If I was to listen to one of my compilation albums (one of the ones not on a cassette tape – now I feel old!) I could still quite happily sing along and reminisce.
Nivarna, Take That, Faithless, Alanis Morrisette, Blur, Spicegirls, Fatboy Slim and the Prodigy all appeared in some way, shape or form in every young person’s collection. And even the Macarena and Whigfield’s Saturday Night still remain party favourites.
So the 1990s was an era of cheesy and happy pop (but way cooler than that 80s pop), cool R&B and brilliant dance music. At least that’s how I remembered it.
That was until I caught a 90s themed ‘hit’ show on one of the many, many music channels at the weekend.
Fantastic, I thought. It will be full of great music. How wrong I was.
Because for every great tune I remember there were ten more which were rubbish which I hadn’t even heard of (because I must have wiped them from my memory) and should never be heard in public again.
Some of these so-called hits were among the worst kind of middle-of-the road cheese which should be banned from the airwaves forever.
And don’t even get me started on the clothes some of the people in the videos were wearing.
The baggy trousers, the baseball caps, the puffer jackets. Seriously?
Suddenly the 1990s was looking as dated to me as the 80s, 70s and all the other decades before.
I guess everyone remembers their youth through rose-tinted spectacles and recalls all the highlights.
But from now on I will make sure any more trips down memory lane contain all the ‘best of’ bits – and I steer clear of the rubbish which should be consigned to the bargain basement!
* Going potty is just a game for little man
To potty train, or not to potty train: that is the question.
I bought my little man a potty after he came home from nursery and suddenly started talking about them.
Further investigations have revealed there are about seven other little ones at nursery who are doing potty training – and it seems he doesn’t want to miss out. Trouble is I know he is not quite ready yet.
So at the moment he is just happy with thinking sitting on a potty fully clothed is a brilliant game.