CHILDBIRTH ISN'T THE MIRACLE - SURVIVING PARENTHOOD IS

Sunday, 27 November 2011

If Music Be The Food Of Love, I'll Starve Thanks

I am, or rather used to be, quite musical. Over the years I have played piano, cello and flute. The Husband once played the oboe. So I've always liked to think that our kids would be musical too. But, as you know, any thoughts I have usually turn out to be a load of old bollocks.
The Tomboy has expressed an interest in learning an instrument and because the last thing we want in this house is a piano, we've opted to let her have guitar lessons A) because a guitar is quite small and can live week in/week out in the back of the car B) it's not very loud and C) all guitar lessons are done at school.
I've also been thinking that if she grows up to be a singer/songwriter a la Taylor Swift, then I can manage her and be quids in. Hell, I don't even mind a bit of rehab if it means that I can retire happily off my daughter's income.
It's been going well. Or so I thought. This evening, our virtuoso daughter decided to treat me to a concert. She has been desperate to show me her playing skills by performing Happy Birthday and Jingle Bells.
This is how it went, a Symphony of five parts:
1. OVERTURE: The Tomboy spends 15 minutes finding the perfect place to sit. (Adagissimo: very, very slow)
2. FIRST MOVEMENT: She refuses to let me tune her (out of tune) guitar. (Bellicoso: aggressive, warlike)
3. SECOND MOVEMENT: There is a scuffle and slight bickering until she is happy with where I am holding up the music. (Affannato: anguished)
4. THIRD MOVEMENT: She plays at a tempo of one (wrong) note every 2.5 minutes. (Gemendo: groaningly)
5. FINALE: I start rocking in the corner and banging the wall. (Col pugno: with the fist)

Thank Mozart there is no ENCORE.

The Husband, is the meantime, is walking around very Vittorioso (victorious) because he's not been invited to the recital. He is con abbandono (free, relaxed).

Beethoven had obviously just heard his kid play the recorder when he said "Music should strike fire from the heart of man and bring tears from the eyes of woman".
Simon Cowell can stick his future record deal where the sun don't shine, for all I care. Because if music be the food of love, I'm happy to starve.

6 comments:

  1. Hilarious Claire! - cheers, needed that tonight. Seriously did. x

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you, Lucy! I nearly deleted it, thinking it a bit rubbish. Thought you might pop up though xxxx

    ReplyDelete
  3. This sounds oh-so-familiar!
    I am LONGING for one of my kids to show some musical ability. But I'm fearing it ain't gonna happen...
    Eldest had a year of piano lessons at school on the condition that she practice (without me nagging). It never happened, so lessons ceased. I was far more upset about it than she was, so I guess that shows it was my dream, not her's.
    I'll just go back to playing "God Only Knows" (badly) on the piano, and wait for the younger 2 kids to diappoint me as well...
    Ah, parenthood. Bloody great, isn't it?
    Curtise x

    ReplyDelete
  4. I have one like that, painful one finger "versions" of Jingle Bells (what a torturous monster that stand-by can become). He takes after me. Then there's the other son who just got distinction in his G6 piano yesterday (huzzzah!! trumpets proudly) and is starting on G8 next year. He is his father's son. Great when it works out (so bloody expensive for one thing). The music is actually a pleasure to listen to. And more than one finger is involved.

    ReplyDelete