Driving me crazy…

CHRIS BENNETT has a week of contrasts.

LIFE has a delightful tendency to swing from the bizarre rituals involved in such undertakings as renewing a driving licence (which licenses me to drive) to the enchanting world of being at home and listening to the cathedrals of George Frederick Handel’s imagination (Dixit Dominus; Ombra mai fu; Lascia la spina) or those of the shimmering JS Bach: Erbarme dich from the St Matthew Passion; Jauchzet, frohlocket, auf preiset die Tage! from the soon-to-be-appropriate Christmas Oratorio.

Fairly obscure though these pieces of music may seem, they are among the most beautiful and stirring ever written and are well worth the trouble that may be involved in their finding.

At the other side of the pendulum’s swing is the renewal of the driving licence, an ostentatiously bureaucratic parade which has to be approached with a seriously awakened sense of humour.

The good folks who test the eyes and take the money are friendly and helpful; they are also very, very relaxed about their work, so relaxed in fact that I was reminded of the John Cleese (or was it Michael Palin?) joke about the parrot.

As a result this laid-back-nearly-flat approach to life the queuing involved is of a fairly weighty nature. However, if, like me, you are predisposed to watch the world go by and observe your fellow men (and women), then the load is lightened. The sense of humour comes into play as a medium of salvation.

One odd thing; the last time I applied for a licence renewal I had my photos taken by a lady with an automatic camera who had a stall in the little market behind the licensing office in Port Shepstone. She was sweet and helpful and cheap and cheerful. I went to her again this time, and again she took a good picture. I toddled back to the office only to have my pictures rejected because they weren’t from Jay’s Studio in town.

I have no idea, and I think I would rather not have any idea, why this should be so, but I wonder how many mouths the lady with camera fed and what she is doing now. Just wondering…

Returning to the pendulum, it seems to be when it is at rest, not that it is at rest very often, that I write this column. As I have pointed out before, a lot of my pottering about, cleaning and cooking and generally being domesticated and at peace with both the world and myself, is done to the sound of music.

The scientists tell us that those who read or do crosswords or soduko, are less likely to suffer from the ravages of senility. I think music must help too.

As I write this the CD I am playing has reached Handel’s splendid For unto us a child is born from Messiah. I find I can write more easily with such sounds ringing in my ears and soaring with my mind.

The only time when I don’t listen to music is when I am reading, which is often. The CD I have been listening to today is an Erato recording (Erato, France, 1995: The Glory of the Baroque; WE807).