Nobody wants a wobbly cellist, as Steve recalls.

Hello, it’s Steve Clifford.

Dementia Diaries is a wonderful format to record memories and thoughts.  And, it is surprising that long-lost memories suddenly come to the forefront, for either no reason at all or if spurred on by something else.

What happened the other day brought this memory, and I heard someone talking on the TV about what instruments they used to play as a kid. One played a trumpet, another a bugle.
Well, I played a cello. It was at Poundswick Grammar School, first year, so I would have been between eleven and twelve. The music teacher was trying to get a school orchestra up and running and he thought that me and another lad would be best on the cello. “You can take it home with you,” he said.

Well, I lived about a mile away from the school and got there by bike. Home time was four pm. The music teacher must have been horrified as he watched from the classroom window, as we put the cello across the crossbar and wobbled off down the road.

Neither of us made it to the orchestra. Nobody wants a wobbly cellist.

Thank you.