I can’t imagine life without music. I can’t sing or play an instrument, but I so enjoy those who can - and they bring joy to my life every day. Lyrics and rhythm can make us smile, cry, reminisce and laugh out loud. Whatever language and whatever genre, music truly is a universal language that weaves its way through our lives.

I remember singing a lullaby to my babies that had the lines, ‘You are tired; you are tired and you must go to sleep.’ I mean - who was I trying to convince? They didn’t understand the lyrics and, let’s be honest, it rarely worked, but the rhythm of the music soothed both child and parent.

Music is used to teach children how to count, the alphabet and other life lessons. How many of you can still hear the voice of Brendan Grace singing the Safe Cross Code? Oops - sorry if it’s now playing in your head all day!

There have been times, over the years, when the opening tunes to children’s programmes would bring me out in an itchy rash. They were so irritating. I’m thinking particularly of the purple dinosaur singing how much he loved me and the irritating giggles of Tinky Winky, Dipsy, Lala and Po. Maybe my parents felt the same way about Wanderly Wagon.

As soon as I was working, I was going to as many concerts as I could afford

Music is also part of our growing up - a part of rebelling as teenagers; a means of finding our identity while going along with the crowd. Our bedroom walls were adorned with posters of pop stars. We listened to Radio Luxemburg while Larry Gogan ensured we were fully versed in each week’s top twenty charts.Some were horrified and envious in equal measure at those who followed punk rock. Living in rural Ireland, I’m not sure my local chemist, who did ear piercing, would have pierced my nose or eyebrow. In fact, they’d probably have rung my parents if I had asked.

I discovered the joy of live music gigs when I was sixteen and my big sister brought me to see Gilbert O’Sullivan in Dublin. As soon as I was working, I was going to as many concerts as I could afford. Once I spent a full week’s wages on tickets to see Chris de Burgh three nights in a row. Sure, that was excessive, but in my defense I was a huge fan back then, and even walked up the aisle to his song ‘In a Country Churchyard’.

I’ve been lucky to enjoy so many great artists singing live. From Sinead O’Connor in a field in Westport, to Andrea Bochelli in Nowlan Park, Kilkenny; Queen at Slane Castle to The Boomtown Rats at Leixlip Castle. I’ve had a ball at Take That with my daughters in the 3Arena and danced in the aisles of the RDS to Paul Simon. I was reminded last week of spending a glorious afternoon in the Big Blue Tent in Galway at a live Burt Bacharach concert. And I haven’t finished, as I’m off to see Elton John next week.

I’m writing this while listening to the wonderful eclectic mix of music with Marty in the Morning on Lyric FM and have to admit - I’ve stopped typing several times to sing along. That’s the magic of music. There are thousands like me all over Ireland at this moment listening to the very same song and singing along. That feeling was one of the many things that got me through the loneliness of the COVID-19 lockdown.

When I leave this life, I’ll will do it to the sound of Tapestry by Carole King, Louis Amstrong’s What a Wonderful World and any version of Over the Rainbow.

But, in the meantime, why not join me in putting on a record, turning up the wireless or opening Spotify and dancing around the kitchen like no one is watching.

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