I was just sitting on the toilet playing my knees.
I had my first drum lesson last night.
I used to go to a drumming group but it clashes with Zac's, so when I had the opportunity to buy some lessons, in an auction the church held in aid of its fund-raising for Mutende Children's Village in Zambia, I went for it.
Husband wondered if Pete, the teacher, had any idea what he was letting himself in for. 'Does he know you have the co-ordination of a blind wombat?'
(Why a blind wombat particularly I don't know. Maybe they are renowned for their lack of ball-handling skills, a disaster in a cricket-loving nation.)
Anyway I had my first lesson. For homework I have to practise a drill.
First tap your right hand on your knee to the count of 4. 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4
Now add in a tap of your right foot on 1
Then a tap with your left hand on 3.
This, apparently, is the basic rock beat that is most often used.
I have come to the conclusion that my right foot has a will of its own; it doesn't like being left out. It adds in a tap whenever it feels another limb is getting too much attention.
(Limb? Is a hand a limb? What else is it called?)
We also tuned my bongos.
Not only do i lack co-ordination, I am tone deaf.
Pete said, 'Hear the difference?' as he tweaked the skin.
'Yes,' I nodded. Ha ha ha.
Still I am looking forward to the day when I join music group one Sunday morning in church and suddenly let fly with ba boom biddy boom ba ba barum bas shum tum pa rum pa boom chitty boom ba boom babadoom! Keith Moon, eat your heart out.