Desert Island Discs: Mrs Brennan

On this year’s final desert island discs feature, we explore some of the psychology department’s hit records with Mrs Brennan!

Most of you probably won’t know who I am, as I mainly teach in the sixth form. However, I do have one very strong (and completely unbiased) opinion: I teach the best subject in the world—Psychology. It helps us understand ourselves and others, explain behaviour, and ultimately become the best versions of ourselves. So, with that shameless A-level plug included, I thought I’d introduce myself through the soundtrack of my life.

Some of my earliest memories are set to Queen—but not in a concert hall or at home. In a van. My parents didn’t have playlists or Spotify. Instead, we had a small, well-worn collection of cassette tapes on repeat: Showaddywaddy (which I know sounds made up, but I promise it isn’t), Boney M, and Queen’s A Kind of Magic. I remember being driven along the bumpy roads between our home in Staffordshire and Bakewell in the Peak District. This was back when seatbelts in the back weren’t compulsory—and in what I’m sure would now be considered extremely questionable parenting, I used to sit on a little chair in the back of my dad’s van. My dad would deliberately hit the bumps to try and bounce me off the seat, while my mum told him to slow down (he didn’t). Queen would be blasting in the background and “Don’t Stop Me Now” always felt like it matched the moment perfectly: fast, joyful, slightly chaotic, and completely unstoppable. Whenever I hear Queen now, I’m straight back in that van—looking at my parents in the front, feeling completely safe, and unbelievably happy.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HgzGwKwLmgM&list=RDHgzGwKwLmgM&start_radio=1

As a teenager, I was completely obsessed with Madonna. I remember watching her perform at Band Aid on TV for the first time—seeing her sing and dance to “Holiday” and “Into the Groove”—and being completely mesmerised. From that moment on, I begged my parents to buy me her music. I think the first record I owned was True Blue, and I played it endlessly. This was the era of Smash Hits magazine, when lyrics weren’t instantly available and we had to wait for the issues to come out so I could finally check the words—usually discovering I had been confidently singing them completely wrong. Like many teenagers, I spent hours in my bedroom rehearsing imaginary performances. I’d stand in front of my mirrored wardrobe, hairbrush in hand, convinced I was on stage in front of thousands… when in reality I was a fairly shy, slightly awkward teenager trying to copy choreography that was definitely beyond me. While I loved the upbeat songs, “Live to Tell” always stood out. I wasn’t entirely sure what it meant, but its moody, emotional tone really resonated with me—which, in hindsight, probably says a lot about being a hormonally imbalanced teenager. Everything felt intense, dramatic, and deeply meaningful… and that song somehow captured it perfectly.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IzAO9A9GjgI&list=RDIzAO9A9GjgI&start_radio=1

I went on to study Psychology at the University of Liverpool—the first time I’d been away from home. I arrived with my CD collection and a mixture of excitement and nerves, and I clearly remember sitting in my halls feeling just a little bit homesick… listening to Queen for comfort. Thankfully, that didn’t last long. Before long, I met the other girls on my floor and we quickly found ourselves swept up in the chaos and excitement of Freshers’ Week. I soon fell in love with Liverpool, and with that came a new soundtrack: The Beatles (of course), and Britpop—especially Blur and Oasis. The CD that barely left my player was (What’s the Story) Morning Glory?, and “Wonderwall” quickly became a favourite. Whenever I hear that song, I’m straight back there—new friendships, late nights, and that feeling that everything was just beginning. And yes, of course, there was plenty of hard studying in between… honest!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wm54XyLwBAk&list=RDWm54XyLwBAk&start_radio=1

My early teaching career took me first to a day school near Manchester and then to a boarding school near Halifax. At that point in my life, the soundtrack was definitely dance music—especially “Set You Free” by N-Trance. That song captured exactly how I felt at the time: I was single, independent, and everything felt full of possibility. Life was exciting, unpredictable, and wide open. Teaching was new, challenging, and incredibly rewarding.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MYVmMweuPxk&list=RDMYVmMweuPxk&start_radio=1

Now, life looks very different. I find myself back at RHS, having previously worked here from 2010–2016. The soundtrack has changed too. These days it’s much more musical theatre, thanks to long car journeys to Disneyland Paris or trips to Holland with my two boys. Our car has essentially become a travelling stage, and we all love belting out songs at full volume. My personal favourite for car karaoke is “Let It Go” from Frozen—although my boys may strongly disagree with my enthusiasm for that one!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YVVTZgwYwVo&list=RDYVVTZgwYwVo&start_radio=1

What’s changed most over time isn’t just the music, but my outlook. I don’t take life as seriously as I once did. I try to enjoy the moment more, worry less about the small things, and accept myself for who I am—something I wish I’d learned a little earlier.