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There’s always music in our house. If it’s not on the radio or coming out of the laptop, one or other of my humans is either singing or playing a musical instrument. They also play the radio in the car so there’s little escape.
I rather enjoy evenings by the fire listening to something classical. On those occasions, I’m usually invited up on the sofa while my humans read, the music tinkling away in the background, which is pleasant and relaxing.
However, it all started to get a bit much at Christmas. One of the children of the house bought their father a lyre. As a guitar-player, he’s pretty good. There are several of these instruments around the house which he picks up at random for what he calls ‘a quick plonk’. In the evenings, he settles down for an hour or so when he’s finished work for his ‘therapy session.’ Let’s just say the lyre has taken rather more practice and he’s not always hit the right note.
My other human is a singer. She sings when she’s ironing, when she’s gardening and sometimes -to my embarrassment – when she’s walking me! And when she gets out her recorder, I go as far away as possible as I don’t like that instrument at all. It echoes around the room and I find the pitch of it assaults my sensitive ears.
However, things moved to another level recently. Two large boxes arrived one day and we now have a keyboard and music seat in the window of the sitting room. My guitar-playing human is rather good, but the other one - the singer - is learning and even I can tell she needs to do a considerable amount of practice to improve.
I’m really hoping the weather picks up soon. At least, I should be able to find some peace in the garden – unless, of course, she decides to do some gardening!