Day 17 – 26.02.2012

The last time I heard my father’s voice it was 1983. Bob Hawke was Prime Minister, as was Maggie Thatcher in England. I’d mention what music was popular, but all that ever flowed from the record player in our family home was classical or opera in nature, and Madame Butterfly is difficult to place on a timeline.

I have known for 20 years that I had an audio tape where for approximately two seconds you could hear my father talking to my sister and I. This recording was made in 1982 when to tape voices was a passion of mine. I rediscovered this tape in January 2012, when I moved house. It had been sitting in a box under high temperatures for many years.

Would this precious tape still work I wondered?

I have a tape player in my old 1997 car, so I drove around the neighbourhood trying to understand what was being said. The tape is full of white noise. I had the speakers (what’s left of them anyway) turned up to the highest possible range. 

I blew one.

Realising that the tape needed to be transferred to disk in order to be heard, I contacted several companies for quotes. I am pleased to say that I have now listened to the recording on compact disk and it was well worth it. Even if it was for the 15 minutes that I taped my budgies tweeting, the badly recorded version of ‘Let’s get physical’ by Olivia Newton-John or to hear my sister call me a ‘car maniac’. This was followed by her telling me that she would be hiring a Rolls Royce and moving houses every 1 – 2 years when she grew up. The logic? She would get bored otherwise.

My discussions included the three cars I was going to buy when I grew up. Obviously a Nissan fan, and during the period where I wanted to be a car dealer, I desired a Pulsar, 300ZX and a Bluebird. I have bought none of these cars and have never worked in a shop.

My sister does not lease a Rolls Royce, nor does she move like a nomad every couple of years.

Can you listen to the tape? Probably not. Most is spoken in a language other than English. It’s funny how much recall you can have for language, not matter how long it has been since you last heard it. Conversely, I would not be able to do long division to save my life.

I have always suspected that I had number dyslexia anyway, if such a condition exists. I struggle when people tell me their telephone number. Twos become threes, sixes become nines.

Perhaps in reality I just don’t want to ring you. So, if you want to tell me something urgently, I suggest that you make me a tape and I will listen to it in 2032, on technology not yet invented.

I'll send you back my answer by courier pigeon.