My Ipod is called Boris.
He is named after the ladybird in Paperplay. I couldn’t find a picture of him, so his playmates Itsy and Bitsy will have to do. All Boris requires now is a ladybird outfit. I particularly like the way a feather-light caress to his belly in the dark recesses of my pockets turns the volume up and down.
Now that the computer is restored to its original fantastic, if rather sonorous splendour and I’ve just about got to grips with XP, I can now waste entire evenings transferring rarely played cd’s full of Napster-era mp3s on to my new friend. With the result that this morning’s metro ride included a musical voyage down memory lane to my 30th birthday.
It was a bittersweet ride.
My thirtieth birthday was to be the last time I drank (home-made mojitos on this occasion) in almost two years. Only a week later I discovered that I was ‘with Tadpole’. It was the end of an era. The freedom I had always taken for granted was already slipping away from me. And as is always the way, it was never fully appreciated until it was lost. The freedom to go out after work on a whim to take in a film or have a few drinks or dinner. To indulge in a spot of retail therapy when I needed cheering up. To decide I fancied a DVD or a snack and just grab keys and coat and leave the flat. To hop on a metro with only the contents of my pockets for company. To discover previously unknown areas of Paris, stopping in a random café for brunch. To improvise plans with friends.
If you peel back the layers of enforced adulthood, responsibility and obligation, that carefree girl still exists somewhere inside. She doesn’t care about mortgages and job security and sorting out the nanny’s payslip (because the rules have changed. Again). She wants to throw caution to the wind and spend an indecent amount of money shopping; she wants to flirt and dance and get tipsy and turn the stereo up loud. She wants to be alone sometimes. She wants to fly away in an aeroplane and explore the world. And she comes alive when I put my Ipod on.
I can’t help feeling that Boris is just a little bit dangerous.
extract from petite30 playlist:
DMX Krew: Good Time Girl
Chemical Brothers: The Test
New Order: True Faith
DJ Rap: Good to be Alive