Music and Me

When I was a very young lad I went home from school one day and told my Mother that the teacher had said that I was a thinker. When asked what the teacher had meant I was at a loss to explain. Living as we did in a small town my Mother soon bumped into the teacher and asked what she had meant. The teacher explained that when the other children sang I was told just to think the words.

Undeterred by this at the age of about 7 or 8 I embarked on piano lessons. Let's just say that I was not a natural. I used to turn up very early for my lessons this was not a display of enthusiasm but only so that I could read the comics which the music teacher kindly laid on. After taking a few exams, one of which I had somehow managed to pass with honours, my music teacher told my parents that I was wasting both his and my time and their money and that it was probably best if I gave up.

Even at that tender age I rose to the challenge and went on to sit my Grade 3 exam which I passed with Merit before I finally closed the lid on the piano and retired from music at the ripe old age of 11.

That was until I joined the samba band. But that is another story for another day.

The building framed by some street furniture in this photo is Cheetham's School of Music in Manchester - they wouldn't let me in!