We all have landmarks that colour our lives; media moments creating a soundtrack to our memories. Sorrowfully many of these are attributed to the death of public figures.

Watching the news break live on telly and listening to the woe from London radio listeners I could do little to stop my own David Bowie flashbacks. Whether it was attempting to perfect the croaky voice on ‘China Girl’ or playing the 7 inch single “Dancing in the Street” over and over again after Live Aid. One of the few tunes I played on my battered record player that Mum didn’t ask me to turn down.

I’m a child of the 80s so this is my Bowie era. By the time I discovered him, Ziggy Stardust was a constellation away. But as many people are saying today, we have all grown up with his music.

When I donned my faded rhinestone Bowie T-shirt this morning, my key Bowie memory was during my turbulent teen years; wearing ripped jeans, far too many earrings, a leather jacket with tatty suede tassels and strolling to the shops with my rare-to-visit aunt on my mum’s side. Still moody from an argument with my mum about my attire and the numerous posters of weird looking pop stars on my wall, I was stopped in my tracks when told that my mum had covered her own wall in David Bowie posters when she was a teenager. Apparently she loved him.

My mother. Into modern music. Loving a pop star. This was the stuff of nonsense surely.  I suppose in an attempt to save face, Mum never admitted her David Bowie crush.

But I cherish the image of my mum, all funky and afro-cool, lying on her teenage bed gazing up at a poster of David Bowie. And I’ll also make sure my own teen-to-be is regaled of my own poster-love when the time comes.

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Hoi, hoi mama elsie here, a.k.a Niki Carrick-Steele. Blogging since motherhood. Life was moving too quickly and the 'me' who stepped foot off a London Underground tube to find fortune in the nineties was no longer the 'me' who reached destination 40 in London Olympic year with a Geordie husband and three girls in tow. Blogging enabled me to breathe and stop. making it up as i go along does what it says on the tin. It's a place where I make sense of life and living. I'm a middle management secondary English teacher so my writing is creative (the only way to teach writing is to get your own creations up there) alongside factual (who knew English teaching required so much data analysis?). A career break gave me time to get my creative on: a novel, short stories, poetry (unpublished) and give some real love to my blog; plus whiling away hours on new blogs and twitter. Neither me or my blog fit a single niche , but breaking the 40 barrier gave me the cajones to share experiences without apology and listen without prejudice - of which I found in abundance on #Post40bloggers. This is where I'm at. Lovin' it, lovin' it, lovin' it.