It was a beautiful sunny day the other week and the bestie and I were en route to Matalan to pick up some kaftans or a summery shawl.

It was too hot to strut around in our usual baggy, dark cardies and we didn’t want to run the risk of scaring any kids with our bare ‘tharms’ (arms as big as thighs).

I popped in my Rock Jukebox CD and off we went.

Next minute Highway to the Danger Zone was blaring out.

“That’s my jam! It’s the soundtrack to my life this song!” she squealed.

My carefully thought out and intelligent response was “Eh?!”

Highway to the Danger Zone ? Was she moonlighting as a secret agent or regularly daring to visit the McDonald’s drive-through on Saturday lunchtimes?

Then it got a little weirder.

“You know when I die, Shell?” she asked thoughtfully. “Will you play Staying Alive ?

I laughed but she looked serious. “It was my dead nan’s favourite.”

Suddenly the atmosphere had taken a sombre tone and Highway to the Danger Zone on almost full blast seemed a bit inappropriate.

As we sat there, the conversation now effectively dead, it gave me an opportunity to question a) the power of song and b) why I’d chosen to take what was possibly a deranged mentalist on a shopping trip.

What would my song be? Which tune would sum me up in a neat, musical performance?

Before you say it, yes, Gnarls Barkley’s Crazy would be the first song that comes to mind, but I was thinking more along the lines of S Club 7’s Reach .

It’s old, fun and cheesy – just like yours truly.

When I vocalised my opinion to the other half he broke down in hysterics and managed to cough out the words “ The Number of the Beast – that’s your song!”

I was obviously miffed.

Yes, I can be a bit of a demon at times, but I haven’t rocked the old 80s rock suit or Canadian tuxedo (double denim) for many years. Plus, when Satan sent me to earth to cause havoc we agreed I’d do it much more subtly – you can do a lot more damage when you’re incognito.

Anyway, seeing as though my mate already had her funeral song picked out it made me want to pick one too.

I wanted something they could play outside the church (there’s no way they could send me off in a church, the world would combust), something that summed up who I was.

So who am I? I’m a mother, I like animals, I’m adorably lazy and I have a serious lack of empathy.

Not looking good is it? Don’t think McCartney ever spun out a song detailing the life of a bone-idle, angry, selfish woman. Though didn’t he marry one?

“You are quite fun,” the chap reassured me. “When you’re not being a psycho… or crying for no reason… or doing the Sleeping with the Enemy thing with the towels and cans.”

He was right. I am a hoot. Nobody livens up a party like Shelley.

So what have I chosen? Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go!

It’s fun, it’s about dancing and sleeping – two of my favourite things. Plus, I always seem to get left out (thanks, ‘friends’).

Hopefully it’ll make the whole two people that attend my funeral smile and have them freaking out that I’m going to pop up and yell “boo!”