There is a scene in a Marx Brothers film, before one of the instrumental interludes, in which a member of the supporting cast observes, in cheerful anticipation, "I love music".
"Me too," says Groucho. "Let's leave."
In restaurants and bars, I feel the way Groucho did. I love music but there is a time and a place for it, and mealtimes in restaurants are neither.
With ears now more than half a century old, I suppose part of my problem is greater difficulty in hearing conversation over background sound.
But even amid the clattering cacophony of a music-free dim sum palace, I still find it a great deal easier to understand what somebody is saying on the other side of a table for 12 than I do across a table for two in a hotel restaurant over Kenny G playing Songbird.
This is not because I dislike Songbird - although I do, viscerally - but because, if music is playing, my ears naturally attune to it. Even if it isn't too loud, which it generally is, it distracts my attention.