BART – JAN.qxp_Layout 7 21/12/2021 10:18 Page 1
Relish the moment
S
o here we are again… This time last year I wondered whether 2021 would be better or worse than the preceding year, and I suppose on balance you’d have to say things have improved. Or had improved. Might have been going to improve? At the time of writing we are facing a period of such extraordinary uncertainty that I really can’t say whether you will be feeling optimistic about 2022 when you read this, or not. In case you’re wondering, I’m talking about C***d, rather than the England cricket team’s adventures in Australia. On that front, I’m afraid, there’s not much to smile about, but with the other thing we are at least making progress. While boffins in lab coats invent jabs, antivirals and what-not, we ordinary mortals have come to accept that everyone’s least favourite germ is going to be around for a while. We might not want to adapt, but we have. We know how far apart to stand in a queue, when to cover our nose and mouth, and how to amuse ourselves for long periods at home. On which note, can I say a belated thank you to the late John le Carré? And to the person or persons unknown who donated most of his books to the various charity shops on North Street (that’s in Southville, yes, THAT side of the river). Extraordinary to relate, I happened upon the three great George Smiley novels one at a time, and in the right order. I then found the TV adaptations of Tinker, Taylor, Soldier, Spy and Smiley’s People – the proper ones, with Alec Guinness – in a special gift box for only £2. I rushed home with some excitement, only to find we no longer have a device to play a DVD on! Or a CD, come to think of it. Happily, as I may have related at some point over the past year or so, we do now have a functioning record player once again. While this was of no use when it came to the Smiley box set, it has afforded – and will need to carry on affording, I suspect – many hours of distraction. Playing a record is, to use the language of today, a mindful experience. You don’t just scroll through a list on your phone, find something you fancy and press the play symbol. No, you first of all have to peruse. You leaf. You mull. You pick up a record, study the cover, ponder a moment. Sometimes I find myself actually weighing a record in my hand, as though a heavier circle of vinyl offers a deeper, or at least lengthier, experience – like a thicker book. It really doesn’t, by the way. Once you have selected your record, you slide it out of its case and hold it up to the light. Is that a scratch? If so, is it deep enough to make the needle jump? Do I want to play the record, knowing that there may be an interruption? I have a feeling I’ve had this conversation with myself before, about this very record, but unfortunately can’t remember what happened next. A further delay, then decision. Yes. Let’s risk it! On goes the record. Out comes the dusting gadget, a velvet-covered cylinder. Needle. Crackle crackle. And the music begins. How long has this process taken? Five minutes? Ten? Once upon a time it was the fussing and faffing that made me give up vinyl in favour of CDs, then abandon all of it for the instant gratification of streaming. Not anymore! If the first years of C***d have taught me anything, it’s that the best way to cope with an uneventful life is not to rush from one thing to the next but to savour each mildly tedious moment. Taking the dog to the park can be an amazing adventure, if your expectations are low enough. And listening out for the scratch in a record – pure drama! ■
14 THE BRISTOL MAGAZINE
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JANUARY 2022
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No 206
