The Single Change That Worked: How I Conquered Post-Work Stress Through an Unexpected Find in the Loft

I frequently become like a coiled spring once the workday ends. My shoulders grow tense, my breath turns fast and shallow. Typically, the sound of my laptop lid slamming shut used to lead to the squeak of a cork pulled from a bottle of red, the wine hastily sploshed into a glass, that initial sip marking the end of the workday.

Later, several months back, I discovered my now-adult son’s old school recorder in the attic. I idly blew into it, instantly reminded of the time when it drove me crazy – his daily practice a violent assault on my eardrums, the sharp sounds echoing in my mind long after he slept.

Instead of throwing it away, I brought it downstairs, along with a book – Very Easy Recorder Tunes. As a child, I had no musical talent whatsoever. I took recorder classes in primary school, but never had the opportunity to learn other instruments.

Googling “how to play the recorder”, I viewed many kid-friendly YouTube clips, and printed out a fingering chart. Looking up simple recorder songs, I felt excited when I played a recognizable Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Yes, it was something your average five-year-old could master before first break, but as a tone deaf, impatient and stressed 51-year-old, it seemed like a major triumph.

My son questioned my actions (and begged me to quit), but I kept going – I enjoyed the sensation the recorder gave me. My inability to remember anything meant I had to concentrate on the sheet of paper in front of me, and carefully mimic the finger placements. My breathing slowed down, I was focused, and once I’d mastered that first faltering tune, I was overjoyed. I had managed to play music.

Now, several months later, I can “play” other nursery rhymes and a decent Ode to Joy. Sure, my rhythm is off, and I still need to write the names of the notes down, but to me, it’s not about skill or being a musician – it’s purely about the joy it provides and the fact I can’t think of anything else when I am playing.

I learned that few kids play the recorder today, which was no doubt music to parents’ ears, but it made me a little sad and nostalgic for my own school days, and my son’s childhood.

I try to pick up my recorder every evening after work as my first activity, and in those 20 or so minutes, I am in my own little world. And afterwards, I feel totally energised and uplifted.

My friends find it amusing, yet a therapist friend informed me I was not only lowering my stress levels, but improving my cognitive skills, such as memory and auditory processing, which is precious at my age. And in terms of my day-to-day wellbeing, it’s truly an ode to joy.