Transmission
My weekly contribution to global warming involves driving past Six Ways, on to Gravelly Hill North and then joining the Aston Expressway and then all the way on the A38 until I get to Northfield to earn my daily bread. I know ought to use public transport (I do occasionally use it) but the nature of my employment does unfortunately mean a reliance on the carbon emitting beast.
However, the purpose of this ramble is not to confess my sins against the environment but to something else. Despite my protestations against consumer culture I admit to owning an Ipod. I’m not embarrassed by such a disclosure. I’m very happy with my Nano and it does give me great pleasure. In order to use it in the car I had to buy an FM transmitter which allows me tune in the car radio and listen to the aforementioned Nano through the car speakers. I have to tune the radio to 87.9 and apart from the odd bit of crackle the reception is very clear and I’ve no problems listening to Joni Mitchell, Start the Week or whatever bit of audio pleasure I wish to submit myself to.
On the odd occasion, as I drive along Gravelly Hill North, the sounds from my Ipod are replaced by different sounds. I’m submitted to rather jaunty 50’s rockabilly songs. I didn’t know who the singers or the bands are but perhaps I stray into the transmission path of a station specialising in, well, jaunty 1950’s rockabilly songs. I never quite get to a stage where I hear a DJ and the sounds tend to last for about forty five seconds before the Ipod once again comes to life. Perhaps one day I ought to stop and listen fully.
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