Sentimental Killer - Mary Coughlan

There are many important milestones in life and what they are will very much depend upon the individual. But there can be none more crucial that moving in with your life partner; whether it be into a rented flat, shared accommodation or a house of your own. It's a huge step but is fraught with complications.

If you ever visit the home of a couple there are plenty of clues as to whether this partnership is embarking upon a new journey or several miles down a long and already eventful road. Assuming you don't already know, just a quick look in around the house will reveal some crucial clues. In the kitchen - do they have two potato peelers when surely one would suffice? Are there two copies of 'The Student Cookbook'. In the living room - does the decor look co-ordinated or does it have the appearance of an explosion in a jumble sale? In the bathroom - is there only one or two toothbrush holders? Simple tell-tale signs. Nothing that would need a Serlock Holmes depth of analysis.

You see when couples first move in together they combine possessions. In intricate weaving of the everyday and mundane. Over time these are slowly replaced until one day, several years down the road, there is 'our' potato peeler, 'our' cookery books, and 'our' toothbrush holder'. With the general obsession with the big gestures these little things can be easily overlooked. But it is these little things that are important. The mortar to the bricks. The bricks that make up a life together.

But I would argue that there is one area where this merging of belongings and bric-a-brac never really gets resolved. Kitchen utensils are easily disposed of and bought anew, but the music collection remains singularly possessive. I know this because even now, when I look along the racks and racks of CDs, Tapes, Vinyl, DATs and MiniDiscs I still have my music and Sarah has hers; those that were brought into the relationship. Before Graeme. Before Sarah. Before Us. CDs of which I will never know the full history; the story of how they were bought, where they were listened to and where they've been. But that's ok. It just means that there are still things to know, to talk about.

So if you ever get to view the music collection of a couple it might just look at little eclectic - a bit schizophrenic even. That is why, if you ever gaze at our CD racks, you will see Chris Izaak sitting alongside INXS, Carole King next to Kingmaker, Joan Armatrading leaning on Arcade Fire, Take That rubbing shoulders with Talking Heads and Mary Coughlan next to the Cowboy Junkies. I won't divulge whose CDs are whose but there they are; collected, collated and combined but still very much separate. Each with their own story of how they came to be there. Stories that are waiting to be told and discovered.