My neighbour whistles. She just began to do this about six weeks ago, I was quite startled the first time I heard her warbling away as she hung her laundry out to dry. Actually, I was shocked. Was she in love? Or had she consciously set upon a desperate course to revive the long-lost art of schoolboys?
It conjured up memories which were at once pleasant. But also disconcerting. Recollections of youthful days when whistlers were abundant, and displayed their varied talents without a shred of self-consciousness. Walking to school. Cycling in the countryside. Standing by the lathe while producing parts for
What has brought about not only the decline, but the fall of this widespread folk art? Air and sound pollution in the cities? The Walkman and its descendents? Then the ipod? Perhaps the culprit is all in our minds. Preoccupation with mutual funds and pensions. Consumed by the seduction of consumption itself. Even whistling to bring your pet pooch back to heel has been replaced by leads and leashes, or a plastic toy which blasts forth an unmelodious note.
Or is it feminism? It’s no longer correct behaviour to let out a phew...eet, phoo..ee...oo at a pretty gal walking on the other side of the street. On second thought it could be that’s this loss to humanity is related to the disappearance of the steam engine. That bold and mighty inspiration to musical sibilation. Whatever.... whistling’s gone.....caput....fini.
Unless my neighbour’s cheery notes are contagious, trend-setting, or even become the basis for another reality show.
