Last time I was a widow I listened to the radio a lot. I had one in every room so that as I moved around the house I never missed a vital bit of the current story.
The sound of radio 4 coming from every direction gave the illusion that the house was inhabited.
I have now returned to the radio though not in every room. This is a much bigger house!
David's radio played Classic FM . The small wireless in his dressing room is still set for that and I now listen whilst I iron..
I leave the news behind me though for the most part...if it's a really gripping story I just stay put till it's over....not only is the house much bigger, I am much older but the daily habit of listening remains.
I can track this back to my childhood, listening to Children's Hour . I loved it, the stories, the serials heralded by lovely music that I would never have encountered anywhere else...the Home Service in all it's glory became my spiritual home as a child. It gave me riches lacking in daily life...I belonged! I knew what to expect from everyone...it was the nearest thing to a comfort blanket in a time of insecurity and pain.
No wonder that now in times of grief and doubt I still cling to sound to reassure and instruct me.
Now, as well as the daily programmes on the radio, I have audio books. If I sit in the garden I am still listening...the habit is strong now I live alone again...thank you children's hour, Dick Barton special agent, Mrs Dales diary et al.
There is always silence and I cherish my times of meditation, my internal dialogues with God where peace comes dropping slow and I am left with a sort of serenity which will do...it's not full blown happiness yet but it is an opening myself to beauty again...all I have to do is listen. The song of the birds, the tinkle of the wind chimes all conspire to make me whole again. Thank you God.