When I was a kid my mum said “Your brothers are learning to play a musical instrument, so should you. What would you like to play?” My instant reply, “Violin please.” The following week I was dropped off to piano lessons with a woman who smelled of Prell shampoo and cat food.

I’d still like to learn to play the violin, though I think the chances of that happening grow dimmer as I grow older. Traveling the world and learning French are a greater priority at the moment. However, should I decide to wield bow and pluck a tune, it appears the woman living next to me gives lessons. I was irritated to sleep last night and annoyed out of slumber this morning to the horrid nail across chalk board strains of “Happy Birthday To You.”

Now I know why my mum sent me to piano lessons.