For years (almost thirty, in fact), when confronted with the horrifying question “So–Do you play any musical instruments?” (A question only inferior in squeamish-making-ness to “So, I know I’ve been your best friend for fifteen years and you’re not gay or anything, but I really like you–I love you actually Fred…so would you like to go on a date with me and see what happens?”) I flinched, my face did a weird spasm and I spat, “No–No–I don’t–I can’t”. And I would know then that I had made a FATAL mistake. They’d say, “Yes you can!” And I would say, “I really can’t–” And it would never end–

Now I feel all backed in to a corner. I admit it then, yes, anyone can play music. Think I’m joking? If I can then anyone can. It’s all in the head, really. The only barrier between you and playing music is the thickness of your skull (that’s why musician types are so delicate, you know).

The day I realized I was capable of playing the bass didn’t really rock my world so much as–smash it to pieces and glue it back a different and better way! There I was one minute, unable to do a thing and looking inept, flaccid, and every other ugly usually penis-based word, and the next I was playing a chord! All thanks to my brother; it was him who unleashed my inner musical beast. A cumbersome, unwieldy andfeeble beast, but still, a beast—and hope for my future when conversing with musician types, so there! And now there’s no stopping it! (Well, apart from hours and hours of mundane practice. That may well eventually stop me from becoming a professional. But you know what they say, it’s not about winning, it’s about the taking part. And all that crap.)

Some thrilling news for you all, I was speaking to my friend the other week and he has just got a lovely new gig at an hr management software company. Well done Simon!