Paula Johnson is originally from Durham, England, and moved to Toronto, Canada, at the age of 24 as a registered nurse. Still a nurse and now a bestselling author, she enjoys storytelling, staying active, and embracing life through travel, laughter, and time with friends.
Stories about music... I have so many.
And I've realized that some of the biggest moments of my life seem to have come with a soundtrack.
This is one of them.
I was a little bit of a late bloomer when it came to music.
Or at least, when it came to pop music.
While other kids my age were probably listening to whatever was climbing the charts, twelve- and thirteen-year-old me was falling in love with classical music.
Give me Fauré's Requiem or Vivaldi's Four Seasons and I was happy.
Why?
Who the heck knows?
I did music at school, so perhaps that's where it began. There was just something about those sweeping, emotional pieces of music that got under my skin.
Even then, apparently, I liked music that made me feel something.
Then came sixteen.
And the 1980s.
Suddenly, I discovered pop music.
But I didn't just discover it through a radio or a record player.
Oh no.
My introduction to one particular song came wrapped up in a teenage crush I'd been carrying around for years.
His name was Adrian.
He rode on the same school bus as me, and my friend and I both had a bit of a thing for him.
We never exactly fought over him, mainly because poor Adrian had absolutely no idea either of us existed in that way.
But between my friend and me?
There was definitely some silent competition going on.
Then came a Valentine's Day party.
And there he was.
Adrian.
The boy I'd fancied for years.
Naturally, I did what any shy, lovestruck sixteen-year-old girl would do.
I bumped into him.
Deliberately.
He turned around, and I casually said something along the lines of:
"Oh, don't I know you from somewhere?"
Smooth, Paula.
Very smooth.
His response?
"I don't recognize you at all."
Honestly, it could have ended right there.
My carefully orchestrated romantic encounter could have gone down in flames before it had even begun.
But somehow, somehow, we started talking.
And then we started dancing.
And then...
We kissed.
And playing in the background was Nik Kershaw's Wouldn't It Be Good.
To this day, I can't really explain what happened inside me in that moment.
My whole body, my whole mind, my whole soul seemed completely overwhelmed.
I was falling in love.
First with Adrian.
And at exactly the same time...
with that song.
From that moment on, Wouldn't It Be Good wasn't just a song to me.
It became a feeling.
A memory.
A time capsule.
All I have to do is hear those opening notes, and somewhere inside me, I'm sixteen again.
I'm back at that Valentine's Day party.
I'm nervously trying to act cool.
I'm bumping into a boy "by accident."
I'm desperately hoping that he might remember me.
Spoiler alert:
He didn't.
But somehow, he ended up kissing me anyway.
And Nik Kershaw was there.
Well... musically speaking.
I have to add that my love for Nik Kershaw became a borderline obsession for many years.
And I am not ashamed to admit that.
I sometimes think that's the extraordinary thing about music.
A song can become permanently attached to a moment in our lives.
Years, even decades, can pass, but hear the right song and suddenly, you're transported.
You're not just remembering the moment.
You're feeling it again.
The nerves.
The excitement.
The longing.
The butterflies.
The absolute disbelief that the person you've fancied for years is actually dancing with you...
And then kissing you.
For me, Nik Kershaw will always be tied to Adrian and that Valentine's Day party.
I fell in love with a boy and a song at exactly the same time.
And perhaps that was when I truly discovered pop music.
Not because someone told me it was cool.
Not because it was Number One in the charts.
But because, for the first time, a pop song became the soundtrack to one of those moments that stay with you forever.
Funny enough, I started my musical life listening to Fauré's Requiem and Vivaldi's Four Seasons.
Perhaps I wasn't such an odd child after all.
Whether it was classical music or an '80s pop song, I think I was always looking for the same thing:
Music that made me feel.
And that night, dancing with Adrian while Wouldn't It Be Good played, I felt everything.
After that, my love affair with music blossomed.
But not so much with Adrian.
We actually dated for over a year...
But alas, he ended up breaking my heart into a million pieces.
My first heartbreak of many.
And that was only the beginning.
Because stories about music?
Oh, I have so many.
Including my own little "claim to fame."
In 1985, I was actually there.
At Wembley Stadium.
Live Aid.
More than forty years later, it still stands as the Best Day of My Life.
Now that is a music story all of its own...
To be continued.
READ MORE > Her Story, Rambler Cafe Blog
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