I'm getting distracted by all this sharing, says Sarah Cowen-Strong
I should have been getting ready to go to work. So why, the other day, did I find myself frantically turning up the radio and Googling the life and times of Russian composer Shostakovich with one leg in a pair of tights.
It had nothing to do with helping out with a spot of music revision or hunting down a tune that was haunting me and everything to do with one of the burdens of life today – interaction. Too much of it.
Whether we're watching TV or listening to the radio we are being bombarded to share. Presenters want our cute pet stories and pictures of snow-blocked streets.
They queue up for our embarrassing schoolgirl moments, shocking text blunders and what we're cooking for dinner. They invite input on the downright ridiculous interaction on the inane.
They also want our opinions, our experiences, suggested song titles, dinner disasters, memories of old money, and now they're after our minds.
I'm convinced of it. And I'm exhausted.
Take Shostakovich. My search for his details was all down to a daily slot on Classic FM where the aim is to keep a musical link going from day to day using composer, instrument, title or a clever more obscure connection.
I have never come up with anything worth texting into the show but boy, do I try.
I love the thrill of the chase and the chance to – maybe – become the chosen one whose brilliant is broadcast to the nation, with the presenter unable to stop laughing at my razorsharp mind.
I wish I could stop becoming involved. It takes time, concentration and leaves my forehead furrowed and takes me away from putting on my tights.
Any old puzzle hooks me in which maybe good for my future mental dexterity but hard to tell when my brain is hurting right now.
To some extent I blame Terry Wogan – and the driver of my old school bus who axed the tones of Marc Bolan, Donny and David on the radio in favour of our Tel.
Between them they unwittingly conspired to move the teenage me away from the constant wall of sound offered by Radio 1 – yes, chat was incidental to the music back in the 1970s – to guide me into a brand new world of onair swapped stories and silliness, and it was a world I wanted to share.
But in those days the DJ did most of the work. Old fashioned letters were all they had to rely on for contributions to the show.
Now with the immediacy of email, text and Twitter, hosts can put their feet up, pace is upped, peace is lost and please, I really don't want to interact any more.
Just a minute – pace and peace – interesting link. Chariots of Fire?
Must remember that for another day.
