Listen to What the Man Said

My wife is a huge fan of opening the windows.  I, whilst being a great fan of the great outdoors would, on the whole, prefer to keep it out there.  In the winter, open windows just let in the cold, in the summer they let in the flies: neither of them in my estimation are particularly welcome inside.  In an attempt to maximise the efficiency of the central heating, we have double-glazed windows, cavity wall insulation and a loft crammed with more wadding than my head on the morning after.  In an attempt to make it all pointless, we have my wife.  It is doubly ironic because she hates draughts: a raging gale coming through an open sash is easily tolerated, but the faintest whisper through a slightly off-kilter lock-plate will drive her to the electric blanket quicker than an off-the-lead dog to fox shit.  (We DO NOT have an off-kilter lock-plate, believe me, and if we did, I would deal with it.  I don’t mind draughts as much as I mind hearing about them.)

Obviously, as in all things, we have reached an understanding: she does what she wants and I complain about it.  It is how things work.  If I’m honest, in general I do not so much live life as allow myself to get towed along by it.  I am a Pooh Stick.  I used to be paid for making decisions, I don’t see why I should make them for free.  I am always happy to give my opinion if I am asked for it; if I am not, I am equally content to keep it to myself.  Generally when people say ‘all suggestions are welcome,’ they have not heard mine.

It is very rare for people to actually hear what you have to say anyway, and the least likely to want to hear it are those who have actually asked for it.  Approbation is what is usually required.  It is so much easier to get your voice heard if you agree.

I don’t think that I’m unusual in really not liking the sound of my own voice.  Inside my own head it sounds ok, but once it is released I have the tendency to sound like Kenneth Williams after one gin too many.  (I have no idea whether or not Kenneth Williams actually drank gin & tonic, but I would like to think that he did.)  There’s an element of drawl in there – not in a good, cowboy kind of way, but more in a ‘is he having a stroke’ way – and I sound more camp than the chicory essence my grandma used to pass off as coffee.  I can mould my voice quite effectively, which is why, quite often, I am not quite myself.  I think I should have been a politician.  I would certainly soon get bored of listening to me – and that can only be a good thing.

Anyway, the point is (oh yes, I do have one) that when I feel as if I have something I really want to say, this is how I do it; through a keyboard rather than a microphone.  In your own heads you all know exactly what I sound like… and hopefully it is nothing like I really do.  I feel as though there is so much I could bang on about: the world and all of its inhabitants are ripe for sorting out and, Lord knows, sooner or later someone has to do it.  I would tell you what I really think, but the window is open and it’s bloody freezing up here…

Oh-yes indeed we know
That people will find a way to go
no matter what the man said…  Listen to What the Man Said – Wings (McCartney)