When I was ten, my father thought it would be a good idea for me to learn to play the banjo. Mainly because somehow the family had acquired a banjo and the two older sisters cleverly kept their heads down during the discussion. I went for the first lesson. The teacher was a well known traditional musician in Drogheda, Co. Louth, from a well know family of musicians. Within one hour I learned to play the scale.
The following week I forgot to go to the lesson. Being ten I have no idea why but I do know it could have been a birds nest, making soup in a tent with my mate Pat (and burning his eyebrows off lighting a camping gas fire in the process) or any one of a number of things Pat and I got up to, most of which landed us in trouble.
Dad was furious and cancelled all subsequent lessons. No big loss to a ten year old you would think. Two weeks later, the teacher died. Died of an early heart attack and there was a huge funeral in the town with all the major Irish musicians attending, some singing, some playing and some reciting poetry at the graveside. I felt terrible.
All these years on I still remember Brian (his name), not so much what he looked like but the fact that he got someone like me who truely hasnt a note in a bucket to play the scale on a banjo. I have no idea what happened to the banjo but to this day I love the sound it makes and have often thought of taking it up as a hobby. Except I think it might be torture on my fingers.
Instead I look forward to my ten year old son getting an electric guitar with amp for christmas (oh yes!) and a set of drums for his birthday in March. When he's at school and hubby is at work I have the great good fortune to work from home and can sneak a blast on the guitar or a drumming session and lose myself in Jimi Hendrix heaven( I actually have the hair) and Cozy Powell mode and I will think of Brian, killing himself laughing in heaven if he was'nt dead already!
Cant wait for Christmas.........
The long sufferring Pat declined my offer of marraige at ten on condition that he stop picking his nose and instead became an ordained born again christian minister...funny how things work out eh?
