I married a John Farnham fan

My husband is perfect in many ways, his taste in music is not one of them.

I knew his love for the big JF in the early days of our relationship and it humours me that someone who is only 3 years older than I am has such a different taste in music. Not just genres. It feels like decades, like the music I would assume my mother listens to.

Except the music my mum listens to isn't that bad.

We often get into that relationship 'banter' about music in our household. It often consists of me wanting to listen to an awesome song on the radio (or just music in general), and he wants to listen to the footy/cricket/{insert crap sport} commentary. He thinks my music is a collection of whistles, doof-doof and buzzing, I think his music belongs in an elevator.

His idea of music is knowing all the words to Vanilla Ice.

You know those couples in the car that take turns pressing the radio controls? ... that's us.
Luckily for me, I also have a husband that knows how to pick his battles. He knows that battling with his wife is a battle not worth fighting, so most often our fights involve me winning. And I am fine with that.

He thinks he gives up... I win.

When it comes to John Farnham, Cameron is met with the biggest eye roll known to man, so much so I put my back into it. He hasn't gone as far as playing the music in the house, but the singing? There's been occasions of singing that would make anyone's skin peel. So you can imagine my awesome eye roll, and the banter that ensued when my husband came home from work earlier this week, took off his work shirt and exposed an 80's John Farnham t-shirt that he found at his mother's house earlier on the same day.

Everytime we go to my mother in law's house, it's like a time capsule of Cameron's childhood. We bring home boxes of random stuff like photo albums, school books, hats, stamp collections... and John Farnham t-shirts.

This shirt was from his childhood. It still fit, albeit snuggly and he wore it proudly. All. Night.
When he took it off, he folded it oh so neatly and put it away in his drawer, whilst the pile of washing from goodness knows how long ago still sits on his side of the room waiting to be folded away, just as neatly.

I love my husband for his love of all things child like. His collection of dress up costumes, his collection of Transformers toys and his collection of model cars. I also love him for his ability to recall his childhood with all these memories that we collect from his mother's house. But John Farnham? I cringe.