And I got an ear worm out of it.
See, my friend Glen Waverley is a most generous man. We've been friends for many years and although he now lives in the suburbs and we don't see each other as much, it is always lovely to catch up with him.
Glen Waverley is my old work husband from a company we worked at ten years ago. (I might have to dedicate another blog to the concept of work husbands. I collect them like other people collect takeaway menus in the third drawer down in the kitchen)
I should also say, Glen Waverley is happily married. His wife and I get on very well. Glen Waverley likes cats and he collects old Porsches, which he does up in his garage on weekends. And he used to have a sports car - and MX-5. He used to borrow my more sensible hatch back when it was time to take his cats to the vet.
One weekend, he took me for a drive in the MX-5 down the Great Ocean Road. I'd never been at the time and travelling the Great Ocean Road in a convertible is a great, if not rather cold way of doing this.
It was a lovely day. He wouldn't let me drive - mainly because I drive like a Nana and he drives like a lunatic. Well, he thinks I drive like a Nana. I think he drives like he stole the vehicle involved, but I don't feel unsafe. All of my Dutch friends appear to drive like this, Maybe they should stick to bicycles.
So on our lovely day, we drove out of Melbourne before dawn. We stopped for coffee and to put the car roof down at Torquay, then made our way to Apollo Bay for lunch.
Glen Waverley likes to make an entrance.
As we drove into this sleepy town centre, this song came on the stereo.
Glen Waverley, being Glen Waverley, and having something of a sense of humour, turned the stereo up to eleven, so this glorious melody was blaring out of the car at 100 decibels.
People stared at us.
I've not forgiven him - though we still laugh about it.
To get him back, I found him a leopard print snuggie.
Such is the extent of this friendship.
It's an awful song. The lyrics are worse.
But it makes me smile.