I drop my Mum off at hers after we get back from the hospital.
Going to the end of the road, I switch my stereo on. It’s been off the entire journey back from Nottingham because she moans at any SPL over inaudible. I’d rather listen to nothing than listen to castrated music.
The first track that comes on is ‘Misery Business.’ Good, I need something poppy and punchy. I turn the volume up just in time for the first snare before the guitar hook kicks in. I’m actually slightly shocked by how loud it is. But it feels good. I turn it up.
My speakers are distorting now and the door panels are rattling.
I need this so much after the mundane drive, after the bleeps and pings of the hospital ward. I need something alive and loud and now.
Turning left at the roundabout, I drive through Breadsall Village. Seems so long ago we lived there. Because it is long ago – twelve years. The song’s coming to the guitar solo, which I love but I don’t want it to end yet so I skip back to the start.
I speed through Lime Lane. I’m frustrated that there are two cars ahead of me so we’re dawdling along at 40 instead of the maximum for this road, 60mph. I want to drive fast. The trees whip by. I want to feel them so I wind the windows down. The cold slices through me, tessellating with the music.
I turn the stereo up.
Now into Oakwood, the long way round, can’t be arsed with the stop-startiness of Smalley Drive tonight. The music feels good. It washes away the day I’ve had, not talking to another human till I picked up some books for my Dad at 6.15. My isolation was through choice – I couldn’t face anyone today. My emotional reserves, like my petrol, have been depleted by the daily trips to Nottingham. I’d say that I’m running on empty but I’m barely fucking walking.
Through the traffic calming. Let the solo wash over me. God, I miss Mosh. There’s something about feeling music in my bones, vibrating through me that affects me in a way nothing else does. I know I’m addicted, not just to music but to loud music, to music which thumps through me, shattering my melancholy.
I’m home. Time to put some music on.