My One Change That Worked: How I Overcame After-Work Stress Via an Surprising Find in the Loft

One frequently become as tense as a wound-up clock once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, my breath turns fast and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut used to lead to the pop of a cork from a wine bottle, the wine hastily sploshed into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Later, a few months ago, I came across my now-adult son’s old school recorder in the attic. Curious, I blew into it, instantly reminded of the time it was the bane of my life – 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 took it down, together with a beginner’s songbook. Growing up, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I’d had recorder lessons at infant school, yet never got to try 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, a typical young child could learn it quickly, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it seemed like a major triumph.

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. Forgetting notes easily meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and painstakingly copy the finger positions. My breathing slowed down, I was focused, and after nailing that initial shaky melody, I felt euphoric. I had managed to play music.

Now, after some months, I can handle other children’s songs and a passable Ode to Joy. Yes, my timing is rubbish, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but for me, it’s not about skill or being 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, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, as well as my son’s.

I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work as my first activity, and in those 20 or so minutes, I escape into my own realm. And afterwards, I feel refreshed and happy.

My friends find it amusing, but one very wise therapist friend told me I was not only lowering my stress levels, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is precious at my age. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s a real “ode to joy” indeed.