The lovely Brit in Bosnia has tagged me in a Stories and Songs meme. I haven’t been tagged since a pre-snow world, running around in the park playing Stuck in the Mud. And very muddy it was too, given how much rain our part of London received before the fluttery flakes finally arrived. And I’ve never been tagged in the virtual world, either, so am duly flattered.

I’ve been asked for a Desert Islands-style disc, one that sums up a particular stage of my life. And as those interviewed for the Radio 4 island always say, choosing a mere eight pieces of music from the soundtrack that makes up a life is a near impossible task, so imagine picking a lifetime number one.

How about Pachelbel’s Cannon, the ultimate tear jerker that first opened my eyes to the possibilities of classical music? Or The Leveller’s There’s Only One Way of Life, witness to a thousand of my student getting-ready-for-a-night-out sessions? Perhaps Show me the Way to Ipanema, which my husband pulled out of a box of free newspaper CDs in the hospital delivery room when asked if we’d like some music to relax to. Realising it would be the first track my firstborn would hear, it took me all of two seconds to screech, ‘ARE YOU MAD?’ while a sympathetic midwife laughingly pressed the Stop button.

I finally realised that the choice was a simple one. I’ve always been one for the girls. Much as I love family life, there’s still nothing to beat a good night out with great friends, drinking wine and putting the world to rights – and possibly having the occasional spat about organic, homemade fish fingers.

I’m blessed to have a tightknit group of friends from university. We no longer live within shouting (hooting with laughter and sharing music) distance of each other, but get together as often as possible. And about eight or so years ago, we all started to get married. Which meant a lot of hen nights. One weekend in Brighton stands out. We tried to be sophisticated, with wine tastings and a smart meal, but our essential love of smut and tack took over. A treasure hunt produced naughty shaped rocks, and we wore so much pink and glitter (CT, you know who you are) that Barbie would have felt she’d found her soulmate sisters. We dressed bride-to-be as Brian May (her hair occasionally bears more than a passing resemblance to the guitar god’s tousled tresses), which makes my track even more appropriate.

It’s Queen’s Don’t Stop Me Now. We were in a seafront club, had forgotten about crashing the minibus into a taxi on the way in (was it B’s fault for yelling that we were going to run over a seagull, or E’s sudden Beck’s fuelled Abba descant putting off the sober driver?). We all had our arms around each other in manner of a most ungenteel rugby scrum, and were jumping up and down. It was the ultimate in annoying hen night high-pitched nonsense, but we felt as though the world was at our feet. We had jobs, husbands, boyfriends, a future – and were still the same friends who’d staggered around eating pasta with tinned tomatoes in underheated student houses. Caught up in the moment, we were ‘Floating around in ecstacy… [not really, we’re all far too square, just quoting those uplifting lyrics] cos I’m having a good time, having a good time’. Hen in her Brian May do had a beatific smile on her face, probably more at the thought of a lifetime with handsome husband, than crashing about with the girls, but it was perfect.

So there we go. It’s not climbing Kilimanjaro, receiving an MBE, or discovering that the moon is, in fact, made of green cheese. But of such shared moments and music a lifetime of friendship is created. We’re facing 40 in a few years, which will mean having been friends more than half of our lives. But if we’re still kicking up to Queen in another forty years, I won’t consider my life completely wasted.

These memes work by tagging onwards, so please Dulwich Mum, Big Beluga Baby, Rosie Scribble, The Life of the Twenty Something Mum, Home Office Mum and A Mother’s Ramblings, I’d love to hear your number one. You hum it, I’ll play it.