The first time Abba ever registered in my mind was thanks to the drunken warbling of dad singing ‘Chiquitita’ to my mother: "Chiquitita you are my heart/ and there’s no way, I’ll ever, deny you, o o o."
My father was not your typical pop band guy. He was a tough-as-nails man, and unromantic to the core. The kind of fellow who liked pubs that play Daudi Kabaka and Franco, and where pop is embalmed within the jukebox.