Pleasant noises
2009-05-26 13:30
My brother and I spent a lot of time at my grandparent's place when we were kids (they had a pool, the cooking was tastier and my granddad was better at woodwork homework than my old man. Sorry mom, dad, but you know that's true).
Most of the time my granddad would fetch us from school because my gran was out murdering moles on the golf course, but each and every day she'd come home and regale us with her tales of finding "almost brand new golf balls in the water hazard" or "losing by 43 strokes, but at least I found a tee in the bushes, so it wasn't such a bad day".
Every evening we'd get an exhaustive hole-by-hole account of her golfing exploits, each erratic shot illustrated in such detail that you'd think the Masters had just occurred down the road.
We always knew when she was about to burst breathlessly into the lounge and describe her day because of the noises that preceded her tales of golfing woe and wonder.
First the car would come screeching around the corner. This was the cue for my granddad to arch and eyebrow and quip, without fail or variety, "oh oh lads, time to batten down the hatches".
The next telltale sound was the engine roaring, much like a racing car on the starting grid, except she somehow managed to perform this engine explosion while parking the car. Again, my granddad, "one of these days she'll go right through that garage".
And then, the final auditory clue that this in fact was my gran returning home in a mild haze from the golf course clubhouse, her keys clattering frantically into the security gate like she was being chased by some rabid, gospel-spreading Jehovah's Witnesses.
By this stage my brother, my granddad and me would be sitting expectantly in the lounge, waiting for the misery or the joy to unfold, my granddad always asking the same questions, egging my gran on, with a knowing wink to the two of us on the side. It was great pantomime and listening out for the three aural clues to my gran's imminent arrival became something of an evening tradition.
Wood crackling, waves crashing
Today, whenever I hear keys clamouring for their groove in a lock, I instantly recall my gran fighting to be let in by the front door (modern locks haven't eased her burden. She still takes about 30 minutes to open the gate now). Like music and smells, sounds have a great way of conjuring pleasant images and memories in your mind.
Last week I was sitting at a wine farm in Stellenbosch. It was so quiet you could hear the wine fermenting in the 80% French, 20% oak in the cellars beneath us. When the host opened a fresh bottle of Shiraz, the pop of the cork was so robust and crisp that the act of tasting the wine was almost unnecessary.
Just listening to the uncorking was sweet sensation enough (of course, we drank as much as we could get our lips on). Even in a crowded, chattering restaurant, the jubilant pop of a cork easily rises above the clamour. If heads didn't ache so much after drinking wine, you'd forever associate the noise with calm vineyards and sophisticated banter.
For what it's worth, sounds (other than corks) that make my mind race, in no particular order: wood crackling inside a fireplace (the sharp snap alone of wood imploding can warm you up), waves crashing onto the shore (an obvious choice for coastal boy), a subtle text message beep in the middle of the night when your partner is far away (the lone saving grace of cellphones), the sound of a surfboard triumphantly slapping down onto the water when you've dropped down a particularly vigorous wave and, of course, the sound of my gran la-dee-do-de-da-de-dooing down the passage.
Always a sure sign that dinner was almost ready. Or that she's just completely bonkers.
Send your comments to David.
Disclaimer: News24 encourages freedom of speech and the expression of diverse views. The views of columnists published on News24 are therefore their own and do not necessarily represent the views of News24.
- News24