1 July 2015
I remember how much I loved to listen to music while I typed away madly, typing and typing at my desk in my room at my family home, fifty years ago when I was almost 15, and well, yes, forty-nine years ago when I was almost sixteen I remember how much I loved to listen to music while I wrote.
I still do. But the methods – or rather the technology – have changed. I used to put a long play vinyl album onto my portable stereo and let it go around and around and around while I clattered away on my manual typewriting machine. Now I click on a file in my computer memory and the music opens and plays while I write on the same machine, the computer. The two programs run at the same time.
I am also much older. And so is my mother.