Day 1: Five weeks ago my autistic wiring decided I needed to listen to every single album in my Babs collection in preparation for IBSD on November 7th. In chronological order. Obvs. Sorry neighbours…

Day 2: self-soothing comes in few forms for this autistic soul but listening to all my @barbrastreisand longplayers in chronological order delivers. A learning curve at 33rpm as I delve into the musicals, adore the Stoney End and find relief in the reprise. Like you do. Note to self: I’m oh so appreciating the irony of this isolated overloaded queer singing “People who need people, are the luckiest people in the world” to myself!

Day 3: time for the Babs bangers. And more gatefold glories. Smitten forever by The Way We Were. Oh Ka-Ka-Ka-Katie. Oh, Hubbell you handsome bugger. (Yep that’s another pet name sorted). 🐈 Blissed out by the beauty of Butterfly (oh the wonder of the back cover – a pack of butter with wings 🧈🪽🥳) And forever in love with the soundtrack that lead me to a life of Streisand sass – A Star Is Born. Oh that perm, oh that trouser suit, oh Barbra. Always evergreen.

Day 4: nothing could prepare me for the not joy of Barbra’s foray into classical. La-la-la-la-ing along to Debussy or Handel does not a diva make. Whilst the temptation to falter from the adoring path was great I’ll hang tight till tomorrow. Superman will save the day.

Day 5: as this autistic soul tries to navigate some bumpy life changes, the self soothe returns Streisand style. Today was the turn of Superman (is it a bird, is it a plane, is it Babs?), some epic Eyes Of Laura action and Neil Diamond delighting as the tears flowed. Oh and the small matter of Wet (note the promo version!) and one of disco’s greatest duets plus the Gibb glory that is Guilty. A love affair that never ends – especially now it’ll always have that @hannahsherlockphoto connection. The chronological special interest listen continues, a promise to @barbrastreisand I’ll never feel guilty about.

Babs Day 6: the quest to listen to (almost) sll@of my Babs vinyl is done and crackling dusted. Not bad for kid that hates musicals. It was the strings that got me. The strings, the soul, the sass. Served up Streisand style and keeping me addicted since that first time Dolly Technicolour wonder walked into my life. Hello Barbra. Thank you for bringing the camp, the tears, the divine.

And yes, if you are bothered I’ve done a playlist of my favourites. How could I not?