In my Mother’s house there was a radio in every room. It was something I grew up with, and didn’t even notice for most of my childhood. It was only as a teenager that I was glad of it; there would be a radio for company while you studied (“Oh stony grey soil…”), while you got ready for going out on a Saturday night (with one of my sisters hammering on the door to get me to hurry up! You look stupid..) or even just reading in the kitchen while people were watching TV in the sitting room. I was so glad as a kid; the one thing you don’t want to be as a troubled yoot is to be aware of your thoughts, man.

There isn’t even silence in the womb; we did a lot of checking of his fetal heartbeat while the kid was growing. Let me tell you, it is noisy in there. The kid as well did a lot of jumping around in there, and so there was a lot of noise and activity in there.

Today sees the bambino at the creche again, this time for two hours. The house is so appallingly quite I can’t take it. I’ve Ray Darcy on for inane noise in the background. Hate this silence!