One of my friends plays guitar in a band and another is taking drumming lessons.
My only musical public performance – apart from singing “King Of The Road” (badly) on karaoke because it suits my limited vocal range – is playing the triangle (badly) in our school version of Puff The Magic Dragon.
We had the kind of school that would invent roles for all the children so as their parents wouldn’t get disappointed not to see their child on stage at revues.
On the plus side, at least I didn’t get to play the sea-lion in the nativity play.
With all this musical talent surrounding me whilst I clearly have none, I am beginning to wonder if there is a role for me as a dancing “Bez” from The Happy Mondays, a singer in Milli Vanilli or a guy who plays the shakers like Davy Jones in The Monkees.
I seemed to be making shakers every week at school – I’m sure other lessons were available? This involved pouring rice – not Tinned Ambrosia – into plastic cups, upturning another and sellotaping them together.
God saw this common problem for mankind and later invented cup lids.
Whilst he was there, he should have banned all kids from playing the recorder. What’s that all about?
They are all rubbish and it’s really painful to listen to “London’s Burning”, “Frere Jacques” and “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” all the bloomin’ time. Armed with just three tunes, it probably explains why you don’t see many recorder players busking.
Maybe I could take up DJ-ing again because I miss all the foam parties I used to have.
Well, when I say: “foam party”, in reality, that was just the dodgy latte coffee machine in the hallway that overflowed into the radio studio but it looked the same.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure I’ll take up a musical instrument when I have a mid-life crisis – shouldn’t be too long now.