Good Noise

Playing guitar in front of an audience after a lapse of many years was daunting, but totally satisfying. There was the fear of making a fool of myself to overcome. Now that I have done that, I feel relieved. Very relieved!

The opportunity of joining in with some very fine musicians had a dual effect. Firstly it kept me safe, because no matter what I did or didn’t do, the music wasn’t going to be bad. That kept the fear at bay. Secondly, there was the prize of acceptance.

When you become part of an ensemble, eyes meet, and there is a tiny imperceptible nod of approval and greeting. The music carries you. Lifts you.

Playing guitar is like riding a bicycle, you don’t forget.

Noise is the enemy

Sub-Titled: Headaches & Migraines

I can recall only about 5 experiences of having a headache during my entire life. So clearly, I am not in the position of commenting what it is like to suffer from chronic headaches or migraines. With that in mind, I can offer sympathy, but not much empathy. I simply don’t know what it is like to lay motionless in a darkened room for 2 days.

What I do know is… I know what it is like living with someone that does suffer from massive 24 to 48 hour headaches. Everything stops. You end up on tippy-toe, struggling to keep the house quiet. Even the quietest, most hesitant, “Is there anything I can do to help?” is viewed as an intrusion.

So delivering a hot herbal tea or a Panadol becomes an invasion. Shutting the door and keeping the blinds closed becomes a priority. Moving about the house becomes an obstacle course as you make sure you avoid any creaky floorboards or doors. You can’t pack the dishwasher and certainly can’t run it. And even though it’s the weekend, any plans of mowing the lawns are thrown out the shuttered window.

Noise is the enemy.

Try telling that to the kids. 2 days of being quiet is like a life-time punishment. Playing Lego or Pokemon can be great fun, but keeping the volume down isn’t.

With my young daughter, we often escaped to playgrounds. (BTW: I thoroughly recommend the sand-pit playground at Dendy Park, but the tip is… wear appropriate shoes that can contain sand and be prepared to get in at ground level… shifting large piles of sand at your daughter’s command is your job, get used to it.)

My older son was more difficult to contain. We often managed a subdued version of backyard cricket, but with no loud cries of “Howzat?” Backyard soccer was even harder, as goal-scoring meant the ball had to crash into the back fence.

And when my son had a sporting event, I often took my daughter, trying to balance the watching him part and keeping my daughter happy at the playground (thankfully usually located right next to each other). (Also BTW, thankfully)… my daughter is a gregarious, social soul, so at the playground, once she found a friend (at times she was not very discerning in who she considered a friend)… nevertheless, she became engrossed and happy and let me drift a little more towards watching my son play. (Which BTW, is a well-known and important part of “Dad, did you see me?”)

It may all sound a bit chaotic and improvised, but it’s hard to regret good times spent with your children.

The resistance of going to see a doctor was immense. Combined with my lack of personal experience, knowledge and understanding, this was probably the reason it went on so long. Eventually I made myself unpopular by insisting.