My One Change That Made a Difference: The Way I Conquered Post-Work Tension Via an Surprising Find in the Loft

One frequently become like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Usually, closing my laptop with a thud used to lead to the squeak of a cork pulled from a bottle of red, the wine hastily sploshed into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Then, a few months ago, I discovered an old school recorder belonging to my grown son in the attic. I idly blew into it, instantly reminded of the time when it drove me crazy – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the piercing shriek still reverberating through my head long after he slept.

Instead of throwing it away, I took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I was the least musical child ever. I’d had recorder lessons at infant school, but never had the opportunity to learn other instruments.

Googling “how to play the recorder”, I watched dozens of YouTube videos aimed at children, and printed out a fingering chart. Looking up simple recorder songs, I felt excited when I played a recognizable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Yes, a typical young child could learn it quickly, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son asked what the hell I was doing (and begged me to quit), but I kept going – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. My inability to remember anything meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and carefully mimic the finger placements. My breathing slowed down, my attention sharpened, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I was overjoyed. I could play an instrument.

Today, several months later, I can handle other children’s songs and a decent Ode to Joy. Sure, my timing is rubbish, and I must jot down note names, but to me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it is simply about the pleasure it brings and the fact I can’t think of anything else when I am playing.

I read that only one in six children learn to play the recorder now, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, as well as my son’s.

I make it a habit to play each night after work as my first activity, and in those 20 or so minutes, I escape into my own realm. Afterward, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends find it amusing, yet a therapist friend informed me that I was reducing stress, and boosting mental skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is invaluable at my time of life. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s truly an ode to joy.