While the weather’s gotten worse, there’s been a little lightening of the storm clouds that hung over my wedding plans last week. (Opening with a hackneyed image still flies, right? Well, there’s one.) Some of the walls that seemed unscale-able just days ago have come if not tumbling, then at least crumbling down. Bureaucracy. God, it was boring – although it didn’t leave very much free time. I’m a Mozart fan; I did a project on his life and work for the Leaving Cert music final exam. But I have never hated Eine Kleine Nacht Musik more than I do right now.
Hold music is the devil’s own sound. By the time 3 minutes have passed, you hate the track. By the time 15 have gone by, you’ve started rearranging it using screams for instruments. After 30 minutes or more, the title itself will become the letters you will smear on the wall in your victim’s blood, because one thing is certain: you will kill, and this is the interlude that forced you to do it.
I remember the olden days when you still called airlines to book tickets. Everyone else did the same, so there was often some wait. At least Aer Lingus had the good sense and good taste to use tracks for their hold music that most people already hated: the Corrs, I believe, were my particular (least) favourite. I already wanted someone dead for releasing most of their canon, so the simmering hatred while waiting to speak to someone about airmiles seemed normal, somehow. It had the added benefit for Aer Lingus that when I got off the phone, no matter how much of my time had been stolen, I would hate not the airline, but the fiddle. That’s good PR.
But making something I’ve always loved synonomous with despair? Simply barbaric. Thanks, UKBA. Thank you very much.
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