Paternal pride

It is a glorious moment in the life of any music-loving parent when your progeny develop their own fierce musical tastes, and start looking rather askance at yours. My case may be extreme, as my two children have had to put up with my music for years. As previously mentioned in these columns, my tinnitus makes it all but impossible for me to work in complete silence, and I have become accustomed to playing up to a dozen CDs a day to get anything done. As a result, daughter (12) and son (10) find other people’s houses eerily quiet, even if someone is digging up the road outside and a Boeing 747 is strafing the rooftops. Maybe surprisingly, exposure to unceasing pop music has not put them off it for life. Instead, they seem to have noticed that I like A Certain Sort Of Thing.

Like all of us, I believe my own taste to be unfeasibly wide-ranging and impossible to pin down in a single sentence.