So, it turns out that there was no music coming from within the fridge, as my Nanna thought. Not that I thought this, mind you, but in good news, there was actual music. It was coming from the fridge door, piped out from a small magnet that had been given to my grandparents a year earlier by a vet. The magnet was an alarm, the vet had explained, that would tell them when they needed to have their dog, Zoe, heart wormed or killed or some such thing that vets do. They are old, he did not say, and thus forget these things. The magnet will help. Uh huh. My grandparents had assumed, strangely enough, that the magnet would beep or flash or do one of those things alarms do, which to them means no unintrusive music played every hour for three days until my grandparents realised what it was.