Two weeks ago I dragged myself into the 21st century and traded my dial-up connection for broadband. I admit it’s tragically exciting to upload photos onto ebay at what seems like the speed of light, when before I could walk away, make a three course meal, eat it, and smoke an after dinner cigar before even bothering to check whether it was done. But I’ve got a new addiction to go with the speedy connection - downloading music.

At first I just found music for my spin classes that I’d never have had on CD - gym style music that I’ve always slagged off in the past, but have been warped into secretly liking. Then stuff I’d always wanted but couldn’t find anywhere - like WWF themes from the mid nineties, when it wasn’t quite as embarrassing to be a wrestling fan as it is now (yeah, you heard me - wrestling was cool back then - really!), and freaky covers of things by Duran Duran that I’d never known existed. But there were only a couple of wrestling themes, I swear. And only one Duran Duran cover …

Then something weird happened, and I suddenly found myself taking a musical trip back to when I was a kid. My parents always had wild parties most Friday nights when they both worked at the ABC, and my early years were spent sneaking beer out of glasses that had been left on the floor, and listening to Jethro Tull, Carly Simon and the McGarrigal Sisters. Even when I was young I knew that kind of music was uncool, but my folks loved it - and so did their drunken friends. Gerry Rafferty, some bizarre bawdy tunes by Morris On (I didn’t quite realise what cuckoo’s nest was a euphamism for back then) were all part of the madness, and no one listened to my complaints - until my brother was old enough, and then we’d complain together, but still no one listened.

So I don’t really know how I now have Carly Simon, Gerry Rafferty and Jethro Tull on my ipod. I’ve got heaps of tracks from Simon and Garfunkle’s concert in Central Park, which mostly reminds me of my father singing after a few glasses of wine - I think we’d hire the video practically every week, then he bought a box set of their records which were on high rotation. I not only have the original of Baker Street, but a cover by the Foo Fighters (but it doesn’t have that awesome saxaphone riff, so I could almost go out on a limb and say Gerry Rafferty’s version is better).

My daughter, seven year old Divine Miss M, loves music, but she has very particular taste (mostly awesome, but she’s got a thing for Jesse McCartney that I just can’t forgive) so I played her some of my downloaded music. I’d deliberately started with things I knew she’d like, then I hit her with “You’re so vain”, pretty sure she’d love it. She screwed up her face and told me to turn that boring crap off. I was disappointed, ’til I realised it was all part of the cyclic nature of life. Thirty years from now, she’ll be jacking into whatever version of the internet exists, wondering why she’s typing Carly Simon into a search engine, and remembering me fondly as she thinks “that song IS cool after all”.