Last night Shaun was out of his work clothes, getting H ready for her bath. “What’s that?” she said, pointing at Daddy’s t-shirt.

“It’s a Beastie Boys t-shirt” he tells her. Nothing more is said, the bath is done, and we all go into her room (as she’s insisting I sing Twinkle Twinkle every night, just the two times now).

“Daddy, Beastie Boys!” she repeats, a good 30 minutes after she was told what it was. We’re kind of proud of that. I mean, speaking as a 41 year old who has gone to gigs since the age of 13 (Duran Duran, Leeds Queens Hall 1983, fact fans), I often had trouble remembering the names of the support bands (especially these days, although I just get all the bands confused anyway, and they’re starting to sound the same to me – and I work in music), let alone anything else. Alcohol is not to blame. I suspect our little one will learn to love music as much as her mummy and daddy do…

I do remember the controversy with the Beastie Boys, back when ‘Fight For Your Right’ came out, must dig out my old 7″ single… and these days that kind of controversy is nothing, compared to a lot of the artists out there these days. Cripes.