It is the question I fear most in life. Not “what do you want to be when you grow up?”, or “you spent how much at Chez Bruce?”, but “what are you listening to?” There is simply no good answer — or at least not one that does not require explanation.
I could lie, of course. Strangers might reasonably assume it is music, while those who know me a little better probably suspect podcasts. But they would both be wrong. I am listening to nothing at all. Except, even this is not quite right. The truth is, I am listening to white noise.
It began during the second lockdown, when our upstairs neighbours, in their infinite wisdom, decided to rip out their carpet and so suddenly every light footstep sounded like a giant thud above my head. I tried reasoning with [ed: yelling at] them, but when that failed I purchased a pair of noise-cancelling headphones and never looked back (or indeed, up).
And when Dame Kate Bingham purchased all the vaccines and we returned to the office, the headphones stayed on. I had discovered this superpower and could continue to write my leader column in peace. They are a productivity tool so good I’m considering sending them on to the Treasury by way of a Budget submission.
Headphones are the ultimate “do not disturb” sign. Once affixed, they sent the price of grabbing my attention so high, you’d think I left the FTSE 100 to list on the New York Stock Exchange
Because as well as blocking out sounds, headphones are the ultimate “do not disturb” sign. Once affixed, they instantly sent the price of grabbing my attention so high, you’d think I left the FTSE 100 to list on the New York Stock Exchange.
But here’s the evil duality of headphones. When I’m done with my work — or more plausibly, am looking for a distraction — I relegate them to my neck and turn to chat with my colleagues. On my own terms and open, as it were, for business.
The science of noise cancellation — the good kind of cancellation — is essentially magic. The device somehow analyses surrounding sounds and then emits the opposite frequency to nullify them. The result is, well, near-silence. On standard headphones, the user’s only option is to crank up the volume, potentially damaging their hearing. I appreciate this is starting to come across as one of those advertorials but I’m not even working on commission here — though the good people at Bose know where to find me.
Like any quasi medical intervention, there are side-effects, of course. One must be extra vigilant when crossing roads or waiting in line at the post office. Noise-cancelling drains the battery, so I now have yet another device that requires nightly charging. With practically no external sounds, I have started to grow irritated by my own breathing and how my jaw occasionally clicks. And even the nerds at Bose are no match for that horrendously screechy stretch of Central line track between Liverpool Street and Bethnal Green.
The only other thing they can’t do is protect me from unpleasant workplace smells. When colleagues apply perfume in the office, I occasionally contemplate rustling up another pandemic era device, the N95 face mask, but fear that would render me beyond parody and possibly subject to a tribunal.
Fearing I was becoming overly reliant on my headphones, I took a break from them on holiday.
Instead, I bravely sat on the beach, reading a book (Long Island, Colm Tóibín’s meandering sequel to the brilliant Brooklyn) as waves crashed, music blared and children screamed. It felt good to be inundated with ambient noise and interrupted by the distractions of life. Just don’t tell my colleagues.
Sir Andy Murray is the irreplaceable champion of our hearts
After two hip surgeries, three grand slam titles and more than 1,000 matches on the ATP tour, Sir Andy Murray is to play his final tournament at the Olympic Games in Paris.
Let’s be real. Murray has neither the on-court grace of Roger Federer, the brutality of Rafael Nadal or the sheer durability of Novak Djokovic, but that was kind of the point. Before there was a big three, there was a big four — and Murray was always the most human of the gang. He was one of us. He got mad when he missed and ranted sarcastically at his box. But he was also a champion and advocate for the women’s game in a way that none of the other three ever came close to managing.
Djokovic has already been usurped by Carlos Alcaraz, but Murray is irreplaceable.
