I knew it was a sign of their love that my parents allowed me to learn to play the violin. Even then I knew that it couldn't be easy listening to the shriek of a badly placed bow, or the whine of dodgy finger placement. I knew at the time how bad it was to listen to, after all I had my ear glued to the instrument.
Today, however, I think my parents got their own back on me. My darling first born has brought home a saxophone. Beautiful to look at, divine on a jazz cd, strangely reminiscent of a goose being strangled in my living room. The goose is putting up a good fight. Christopher knows nothing except how to put the instrument together, but that is quite enough. At the moment he's honking away and randomly pressing the keys, amid gales of laughter from his two adoring fans.
It's going to be a long year. Hold me.