HEADPHONES

Headphones on, clasped to the side of my head and squeezing tight. Click play. It's Holst - The Planet Suite, Mars the Bringer of War.

The drums pound, the brass section swells and the strings swoop in in that famous irregular fanfare until the timpani thunder and the cymbals crash. I purse my lips and narrow my eyes as my heart thumps in 5/4. It's fist-clenching determination for a Friday.

Plus, it keeps the rest of the world out. It's like having the Berlin Philharmonic Orchestra sitting in the cans either side of my head, shielding me from the earthbound troubles of everyday life. There they all are, tiny musicians playing loud music, whisking me away to the stars, to Venus, to Neptune and to Pluto.

I guess we're used it to now, having access to music everywhere. I remember slotting a cassette tape into a Sony Walkman, clunking down the play button and zipping round the park on my BMX, listening to Bon Jovi. There was something very special about being in my own little world, flying through Prospect Park with the wind ruffling my curls.

"Ooh, we're halfway there," I'd sing to the trees.

Thankfully, in an office full of software engineers anyway, you can't sing along to Holst.