Quantum listening, Scottish tablet

Quantum Listening, Scottish Tablet

In the ravages of early grief, when the clocks seemed to stop and the dawn seemed days away, I would run a hot bath and steep myself through the witching hours  - once my ears were submerged I could hear my blood and heart beating, so I knew I was alive even though I didnt feel it. I kept hold of those sounds and focused on them when other, bigger noises in my daily life threatened to overwhelm me.

Once I started to feel better, months later, I began to think about what I was letting into my psyche on a daily basis. Learning that I am so sensitive to sounds since losing Stephen has given me a new perspective. Social media is fabulous on many levels but there is no substitute for the quietness of books or the intense concentration of music and this has led me to discover deep listening, or quantum listening, as Pauline Oliveros called it, ironically whilst I was in the bath listening to Cerys Matthews.

Deep listening goes below the surface of what is heard, expanding to the whole field of sound; real, imaginary or remembered. It is listening, in as many ways as possible, to everything that can possibly be heard all of the time. Revelatory to me, I have started to try and do it as often as I can. I use it to focus and concentrate and to listen to things that sit just below coherent thought but are as lucid and clear, once you tune into them, as a poem. Oliveros talks about using soundscapes as a guide for your future self, which I LOVE. She says the ear tells the eye where to look

Standing in my father in laws kitchen, making tablet, deep listening was easy. This is a recipe that we have been making for decades, and the sounds of the memories took me to the edge of my imagination and beyond. Think about when you are making your favourite recipes that you have made time and again. Can you hear the memories, the experience? Where does the sound stop? These things are a guide, aren't they, or at least they are for me. Making this recipe, I could hear Stephen. I could hear him as a child in his family kitchen and I could hear my Father in laws voice as a younger man, giving instructions calmly and patiently. I could hear love and sweetness and patience. I could hear my own heartbeat too, connecting me to the now, steadying me, and pulling me forward into a new soundscape.

Recipe (also visually on Instagram reels)

1Kg granulated sugar

1 410g tin evaporated milk

125g butter

Put the ingredients into a high sided pan. Melt slowly over a gentle heat. You won't hear much, just the gentle hiss of your gas hob and a quiet chat of expectation

Once the three ingredients have melted, turn up the heat to make the thick, creamy mixture plop and boil.

Leave it plopping and boiling for about 20 minutes.

Once the 20 minutes is up, use a wooden spoon to pull the mixture away from the bottom of the pan. If the bottom of the pan is clean and clear, you can allow to cool for a few minutes.

Once cool, whisk noisily, preferably with the same mixer you have had for 20 years.

Line a shallow tray, about 25 centimetres by 22, with crinkly, crunchy baking parchment and slowly pour the cooling mixture into it.  Leave for about 10 minutes to cool further and firm.

Take a bone handled knife and score the hardening mixture into cubes, the knife grating against the grainy texture, until you have made a grid of bite size pieces. You can adlib this if you like but remember that tablet is harder and sweeter than fudge so smaller, in this case, might mean better.