If I understand the statistics correctly, the proportion of the Australian population interested in classical music is down to less than 10 per cent. To me, classical musical has marked some of the best and worst moments of my life.
I am not a classical music buff like Marcellous. I do not go to concerts. To me, classical music is a deeply personal experience.
When I was packing up 202 Marsh Street, the house that had been my home for 45 years even when I was away, I listened to classical music. A little later as I drove to Sydney leaving behind the hopes and dreams that had formed the core of my being from my earliest memories, I listened to classical music.
None of us can give up the past. It remains, always there. This afternoon I am listening to classic music again. I have been washing and tidying up. I am due to go to a function shortly.
The core issue I face is this: what price am I prepared to pay to try to maintain the integrity of my dreams. A subsidiary issue, not unimportant, is the maintenance of my professional integrity.
The two issues, dreams and professional integrity, are not directly linked. The juxtaposition comes about in part because I am wrestling with the issues at the same time. Yet they are linked because both relate to the same question, what makes me a person.
I do not have an answer. I have to turn the music off and return to the mundane issue of ironing a pair of jeans.