The One Change That Worked: How I Overcame Post-Work Tension Via an Unexpected Discovery in the Attic

I often feel as tense as a wound-up clock once the workday ends. Tension grips my shoulders, breathing becomes rapid and shallow. Usually, closing my laptop with a thud would be followed by the pop of a cork from a wine bottle, wine poured quickly into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Then, a few months ago, I came across an old school recorder belonging to my grown son up in the loft. I idly blew into it, immediately transported back to the days when it drove me crazy – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the piercing shriek still reverberating through my head long after he slept.

But rather than consigning it to the bin, I brought it downstairs, together with a beginner’s songbook. As a child, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I took recorder classes in primary school, but never had the opportunity to learn other instruments.

Googling “how to play the recorder”, I viewed many kid-friendly YouTube clips, and got a fingering guide on paper. Looking up simple recorder songs, I felt excited when I played a recognizable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Yes, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it felt like a huge achievement.

My son asked what the hell I was doing (and please could I stop), but I kept going – I liked the way the recorder made me feel. My inability to remember anything forced me to focus on the music sheet, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breathing slowed down, I was focused, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I felt euphoric. I could play an instrument.

Now, after some months, I can handle other children’s songs and a passable Ode to Joy. Sure, my timing is rubbish, and I must jot down note names, but for me, it’s not about being skilled or a “musician” – it’s purely about the joy it provides and the fact I can’t think of anything else when I am playing.

I read that only one in six children learn to play the recorder now, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, yet it made me wistful for my school years, as well as my son’s.

I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work before I do anything else, and in those 20 or so minutes, I am in my own little world. And afterwards, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends think it’s hilarious, yet a therapist friend informed me I was not only lowering my stress levels, and boosting mental skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is invaluable at my time of life. For daily wellness, it’s truly an ode to joy.