I sometimes have to explain to people that there was once a time, long ago, when iPods played music.
No videos, no photos, none of this phoning malarkey. My iPod actually does look like this one------>
I bought this three or four years ago on a visit to New York and have since three-quarter filled it with my, erm, odd tastes in music. It accompanies us on trips, and there's no better way of spending an afternoon than plugging it into some speakers and putting it on what we now call "random shuffle bizarre mode".
Katie has the patience of a saint when it comes to my musical tastes. And as we moved from the sublime to the cor-blimey, she rarely reacted. A lesser woman might have asked, "What the feck is this?" as yet another dystopian ten-minute progressive piece emerged. Katie just raises an eyebrow, barely visible over the book she's reading. "What are we listening to now, dear?" she'll enquire sweetly, not even making eye contact.
This is a code. It means one thing. Skip. Skip now.
It's a good job musical tastes can't be cited in divorce courts.