Of all the things I’m pretty lame at, playing the piano is possibly the most outstanding.
My particular dread is also playing in front of anyone. Especially my piano teacher local musician Ronnie Teape who plays so naturally I am both mesmorised and paralysed at the same time, resulting in an resolute refusal to play a single note. In much the same way as my previously gobby mouth snaps shut the very instant someone says “right, any questions” after a corporate presentation, my former fidgety fingers also freeze on the spot the minute Ronnie says “you have a go now”.
And no I am not being falsely modest. I can more readily accept a wallop around the head with a blunt object than a well meaning compliment, so please do not try to reassure me.
If you have ever had the dream that you are dressed in your underwear in a supermarket and the sudden realisation hits you that you are about to be horribly embarrassed in public, you will have some notion of what’s currently going on inside my head.
Still, at least it is fulfilling its promise of distracting me from the side effects of chemo.
So if I do manage to hit all the right notes in the right order at the right time in 3 or so weeks, I would get yourself a few of those magical piano lessons from Ronnie ‘cos heaven knows what else I can blame it on.
p.s. I have a bone to pick with the medical profession. Since when has a week been made up of 6 days? I was ‘sold’ this chemo lark as a 2 weeks on 1 week off offer! And by my reckoning that’s 7 days. So as my 14 days of chemo tablets finally complete this evening, I am going to have to break it to my white blood cells that they only have 6 days leave from fighting on the front to get themselves fit again and ready for battle when I go back in hospital on the 30th November. I am in marketing and that claim would NEVER have got past our legal department!