They are testing the internal radio system in the office today, and consequently ABBA Gold has been now playing for the last half hour over the announcement system. Despite the fact that I don't actually own this album and haven't listened to it all the way through since my student daze, I know it so well I can actually remember the track order, to say nothing of all the words. It's not right on a Wednesday morning.
Related to this, I realised last night that the noise the boiler at home makes as it switches itself on is identical in rhythm to the opening drum riff of Blondie's "Call Me." Also, when I flew up from Malindi to Nairobi the other day, I looked out to my left and saw Kilimanjaro rising above, er… Tsavo East.
(Favorite bit of that journey: the security screeing at Malindi airport. Two men in a uniform book-ending the most enormous steel beast purporting to be a luggage x-ray machine, but no one actually looking at any images it might produce. Mind you, it could have been emitting rays of doom to neutralise any illicit goods instead. Which would have been cool. It did have that kind of look, and that might have been an explanation for the peculiar grinding sound.)
At least the inevitable looping riff (Sehh-ren-ge-teeee) kept my mind off the pilot's unswerving determination to hit every pocket of air turbulance en route. (Quote from white-knuckled nearby passenger after we landed, "I wish to get out and kiss Kenya's good and Godly earth".)
Clearly, the 80s have left their neon and be-permed mark on my soul. Can a mullet be far away?