When I was about eight years old, I joined the guitar club at my school; it was imaginatively named Guitar Club. You might be thinking we were some sort of musical prodigies, the guitar gods/goddesses of the future, a gift to the world of rock. Well, don't.
Guitar Club was almost exclusively the music club of choice for those pupils who didn't actually qualify for any of the decent music clubs but still wanted to pretend they did. As such, we consisted of about six (technically, there were eight, but one sometimes showed up and another hardly ever showed up) kids with our mothers' badly tuned acoustics that gathered in the mobile classroom to strum away for an hour or so, before going home and not touching our guitars again for another week. At the end of the year, we participated in the end-of-year showcase, playing a very un-melodic version of Amazing Grace. It was dreadful. I have a friend who still laughs about it. The club was disbanded after that.
Horrifyingly, that is one of my better forays into the musical world. I was denied access to musical education when I was unable to play Three Blind Mice on the recorder when I was five. At the next school I attended, I was famously incapable of doing, well, anything on the keyboards. I once had a triangle taken away from me because I failed to play it correctly. I am not, you may be gathering, musically talented.
Which was a bit of a shame, because I otherwise possess a lot of skills a good musician needs. Patience, dedication, happy to repetitively do something... I wanted to play an instrument, I had some good qualities for it; pity, then, that I lacked any sense of tone or rhythm.
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