Monday, September 12, 2011
A new organ for the old scrote
When I was fifteen I told my mother that I wanted to learn to play the piano. Bless her, she bought me a second-hand upright and taught me to play. Well, she got me started, but I was soon improvising rather than sticking to the dots. When I was in my twenties, I worked with a man called Roy K, who was an enthusiastic player of jazz. He was a good teacher. Thanks to him, I developed my knowledge and my digital dexterity. When I moved to my present home, some twenty-five years ago, I bought a Roland electronic keyboard. It and I over the years have slowly worn out together. In fact, because of arthritic-type stiffening of my fingers, I stopped playing about two years ago.
But, you know me, a typical case of optimism-over-experience, I have bought a new keyboard, a Yamaha. Talk about bells and whistles, it does everything except make coffee! It even has a 5/4 time signature, so I can once again mangle Dave Brubeck's Take Five and that catchy tune from Jesus Christ Superstar that I can't remember the name of.
You also know about me that I am a considerate man. I love my neighbours, so I am getting the house soundproofed right away.