Thursday, 11 June 2009
A (much needed) trip to the gym at lunchtime left me in agony. Not physically, you understand, but because of an hour of having to listen to non-stop pop music. It goes with the territory. Now on the treadmill the beat is very useful when running, but the lyrics are all - without exception - concerned with various aspects of "Lurve," with a capital 'L.' Is there nothing else in the whole gamut of human experience to sing about other than dating, one wonders? Given that this is the only musical experience enjoyed by the majority of our fellow citizens, is it any wonder that our society seems trapped in a kind of perpetual adolescence, from cabinet ministers down?
For me, I'm afraid, now quite obviously an ageing and irascible fogey, an hour of this kind of torture is worse than waterboarding! Perhaps now is the time to invest in an i-pod with Mozart playing over the headphones.