The most memorable moments of 2006 for this writer would have to include, among too many to list here, the West Cork Chamber Music festival in June, the Steve Reich festival (RTE Living Music festival) in February, Joshua Bell in May and the visit by Valery Gergiev and the orchestra of the Marinsky theatre in May. It was a year in which I learned more than ever that Irish audiences are as unpredictable as an appearance by Roberto Alagna. (Note: he'll be the primary victim of all such similes in 2007. ) As a musician and concertgoer, I tend to dwell on the nature and behaviour of an audience.

One of the funniest moments in the NCH this year for me was on the occasion of the performance by La Scala and Chailly. Upon hearing a lady in the rear balcony cough during the Firebird suite, a man in the choir balcony (that's from one end of the NCH to the other) grimaced and scowled and shook his head in her general direction, in an effort, I can only presume, to convey his disgust with her. I observed this man as he repeated this gesture every time the unfortunate lady coughed. What on earth did he think he would achieve? If he didn't accost her as she left the NCH that night, she was lucky.

Now, I don't like to be disturbed at a concert just as much as the next person. I wouldn't mind at all if every member of an audience had to leave their phone at a desk outside the auditorium.

They did it at the Ryder Cup, for more reasons than disturbance prevention, yes, but at this stage, people are so negligent about their turning their phones off at a concert hall, this might be an ideal solution to the problem. It simply isn't fair on the performers and it should not be tolerated.

At Pavel Nersessian's Beethoven 5 this year, a woman, obviously too embarrassed to indicate her guilt by reaching into her bag, let her phone ring and ring and ring during one of the quietest moments of the second movement, rendering the pianist's playing inaudible. Retaining phones outside the venue itself would prevent all such unforgivable scenarios.

The kernel of the argument is responsibility. When you or I walk into a concert, it is our responsibility to allow everyone else to enjoy the concert as much as we ourselves would hope to be allowed to. That means having something to drink or a lozenge to eat if you have a cough or even forgoing the concert if the cough is particularly bad. Until changes are introduced, it means, ensuring beyond any shadow of a shadow of doubt, that the phone is off.

But conversely, this responsibility means treating other concert goers with the respect or compassion we would hope to receive ourselves if we were in the same boat, a philosophy of which that man in the choir balcony was the antithesis.

Letting new-Ireland/road-rage behaviour seep into the concert hall is the last thing any music lover in this country wants, I'm sure. Our two or so hours in a concert hall should be sacrosanct, devoid of all the Celtic Tiger madness outside.

And you'll be pleased to know that since the start of this piece, my first new year's resolution is to stop analysing or complaining about audiences forever more.

You can hold me to that.