Music to My Ears... Not Anyone Else's.

I just happen to be one of the hippest youths in my village. This may sound a grand statement but I say it with absolute confidence…and I have proof. That’s right ladies and gentlemen, I played a song so loudly on my car stereo, that I blew a speaker. Just picture the scene. The sun is reflecting off of my delicious olive green bonnet, my open windows allow the cool breeze to enter, shaping my hair like John Travolta out of Grease while sound waves being excreted from my speakers, swallow the rolling hills of Hampshire.

The car - the poor victim in all of this

Ok so I may have left out a few minor details. I was in a torrential rain shower, my window had fallen into the door and my hair was less Grease the movie, than it was soggy. I was wearing a wet dog on my head. Furthermore this particular car, had built up somewhat of a following in the over 60’s age category, although the factory aerodynamic jet fighter precision spoiler and half-leather seats may have appealed to the sporty minded 50 plus age group, back in 1996. Also at the time, I happened to have a boot full of what was initially presumed to be compost, yet upon closer inspection it looked (and smelt) like horse shit (there is a reason the windows were initially down) and my back seat was taken up by a neat row of yukka plants and peace lilies. I was in fact driving what can only be described as an 18^th century, jungle themed horse drawn carriage. To top it all off, the tune I happened to be belching out was Jerusalem. Which, in its defence (and mine), happens to be, one of the best all-rounder hymns of the last two thousand years. Relatively modern in that sense, its beautiful lyrics can still be heard through the stained glass windows of your local church and various other miscellaneous events including karaoke night in my car.

The passion is all in the eyes, not really in the sound...

Before this begins to sound like the Yeo-Valley rap advert, I would like to move on to the point of this ramble. My secular love of this hymn does not prevent it from filling me up with a deep sense of joy and powerful emotion. I enjoy a good sing-song, and although pitch-perfect-Hayley is one of many to inform me that I am positively tone-deaf, singing in the car when alone, is an extremely liberating exercise for me, when for a little while I can become Frank Sinatra or sound like Micheal Bubbles. I believe it is essential to have these ecstatic moments of lunacy at least once a day, providing oneself with enormous release. It is a form of meditation, if you will, though in my case it has an ASBO attached to it.

There are of course many other ways to attain this state of release. One I tried was laughing yoga, where I presume the aim is to forcefully induce the sort of laughter that in a public place, would have you locked up, therefore I find that the car is the best place for this type of activity. I first tried this on a short ten-mile trip, goodness knows what, those driving in the opposite direction thought of this. The first mile began slowly and then it happened:
HAAHAHAHAAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA…

‘This is crazy!’

HAHAHAHAAAAHAHAAHAHAAHAHA…

‘Wow!’, I began to think, ‘I’m doing laughing yoga, this is brilliant!’

HAHAHAAAAHAHAHAAAHAHAAHAHA.

At this stage I am really getting into it. Then all of a sudden and out of nowhere, a bird came crashing into my windscreen. My ecstatic laughter transmogrified into sheer terrified wailing, until I skidded to a halt. On a positive note, the bird was stuck to my windscreen, which was handy, in terms of retrieving it for my lunch the next day. Needless to say, the rest of the short journey was spent in an eerie silence and I have since never repeated this murderous activity.

Hayley - managing to sing in tune.

Having only recently recovered from this, the last time I sang outside of my private space was around two weeks before Christmas. My lecture finished late and after two delayed trains, I walked down the escalator to the sound of angels singing. Mystified, I followed this beautiful sound like a dog to a full-bodied smell and there they were, in front of me. Doth this not sound like heaven? Not quite, my train was an hour late and I was in fact standing in the middle of Waterloo station facing the London Philharmonic Orchestra. This beautiful sound covered the voices of dismayed commuters and travel announcements, filtering its way through every nook and cranny of this enormous Victorian structure. I sang loudly, alongside two hundred or more people doing the same. The old man next to me didn’t have to say a thing, his face was confirmation enough that I was indeed incapable of singing in tune. No matter, for I continued to sing, forgetting my delayed trains, how tired I really was, and the disgruntled commuters surrounding me. This detached dream like state, just before the Christmas of 2010, is something that I will never forget. I will try laughing yoga again sometime, and perhaps I will tell you about it when I do. For now though, I continue to sing in my car, ‘till all of my remaining speakers blow.