Saturday, 27 May 2017

On Muzak and a Marriage.

There’s some loud noise coming up from Mill Lane tonight, and I would like to be down there among it just so I can say:

‘Who the hell chose this bloody music, because it isn’t music, is it? It’s mindless, mediocre muzak. It has no personality, no character, no identity. It isn’t rock and pop, it isn’t folk, it isn’t classical, it isn’t jazz, it isn’t blues, it isn’t even middle of the road. It’s just pointless noise fit only for people with about as much taste as a piece of virgin polystyrene. And it’s far too loud. I bet it can be heard clear as a bell 500 yards up the hill where I live.’

Only I am 500 yards up the hill where I live, and I would have been right. I suspect it’s coming from the pub, but maybe not because…

*  *  *

Somebody from the village got married today. My suspicions regarding the marquees to which I referred in an earlier post were right. Wedding reception. Mmm…

But I doubt that’s where the noise is coming from because the quality of the people who live in that house would suggest otherwise. That house is of substantial historical significance to me. I like the people connected with it, which is why I’m mightily intrigued to know which of them got married today. I don’t suppose anybody will tell me.

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