I had piano lessons for two-weeks.  Sadly, this didn’t qualify me for being the next Liberace; although I am fond of a giant candelabra.

My great aunt was my teacher as she possessed a baby grand in her Balham flat.  Although her violent teaching skills were reminiscent of the role Harry Andrews played in “The Hill”.  I’ve still got splinters embedded into my hands from the smashed rulers over my knuckles.

Her husband, my great uncle, was an amateur band leader. His piano was his pride and joy and would cover the keyboard with an old copies of Melody Maker. 

I’d always look at this protective paper (when not being assaulted) and wondered why, in 1970, I’d never heard of anyone in the charts and wondered why, each week, Marie Lloyd’s Oh! Mr Porter was still number one?

Not knowing the paper was never changed, but anxious to keep up-to-date with popular music, I once asked for this song in my local record shop.  I was disappointed to hear it was no longer available, but did I want Chirpy, chirpy, cheep, cheep instead?  I decided not to as this sounded more like a disease or type of birdseed than a song.

So, I was destined never to be the next Liberace; also, I’m not allowed near matches.  Plus, to me, Quavers remain a type of crisp rather than a form of musical notation.