Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Fun Bobby

No, it wasn’t my new year’s resolution to stop writing blogs. It’s just, with no booze running through my veins (that was a resolution and I’m sticking to it) my creative juices have dried up. I’m basically the Fun Bobby of blog writing. No booze = no stories.

I made seven resolutions on new year’s eve, despite new year’s resolutions being one of my pet hates. I don’t see why they are such a big thing every year – what happened to last year’s? Are we really so inept as a race that it only takes us 12 months to fail at every improvement we try to make and thus, an annual attempt to better ourselves is required?

I’m usually arrogantly at peace with myself come January 1st and refuse to try and further my development as a human being. But, as I said, this year seven resolutions made their way into my little life. Even infallible people like me have an off-year.

I even downloaded an app for monitoring my progress. My resolutions are mostly boring but the one I will share with you is to Learn A New Skill.

Seeing as a friend illegally downloaded the entire Rosetta Stone French syllabus about four years ago (RRP ten zillion pounds. Mon Dieu!) and it’s sat on my bedside table ever since, unloved, ignored, French wasn’t going to be my new skill.

Seeing as I went on a silver smiting workshop with my mum and sister recently and managed to snap the ring I spent all day moulding the moment it came out of the kiln, silver smithing wasn’t going to be my new skill. Gareth says I’ve got the dexterity of a baby giraffe. I’m all hoofs.

Instead, I only went and bought a bloody piano! That’s right. I might enter Britain’s Got Talent this year because pretty soon I’ll have mastered the art of, if not Beethoven then at least the theme tune to Casualty.

I dragged Gareth to Mickleburgh Piano Showroom in Bristol town on Saturday, the required £500 finally saved up. That was my budget, see, and I’d been on Gum Tree, I knew I could get a piano for free if I wanted one that came with baggage. So £500 was generous. I couldn’t wait to see what kind of baby grand piano would soon by nudging the table tennis table out of our flat.

‘I’m here to buy a piano,’ I  told the man assertively. Not a sentence one gets to say often in life. Me and my £500, talking the talk.

He led us upstairs to the huge piano showroom and I was in heaven. Until Gareth said: ‘Have you looked into this? I can’t see one here for less than £3000.’

To my dismay, nobody told me even second hand piano’s are rarely shy of £1500. Grand pianos are in another world. A world where rich people bath in champagne and have so much surplus income even their dog wears diamonds.

An inevitable temper tantrum ensued, with me taking it out on a few expensive pianos in the show room then dragging my feet while Gareth tried to show me how nice (and cheap) the keyboards were. ‘Maybe you should just get a triangle,’ he suggested. A suggestion met with a scowl.

I didn’t want a keyboard. I didn’t want a triangle. I’m not seven. So I carried on with my huff.

But then we came across a Casio digital PX-730BKC5.

Ok so it looks like this. But it has special buttons and was a fraction of the price of authentic pianos.

Even cheaper when you run out of the shop when no one is looking, go home and buy it on Amazon.

And so, I came in under budget and am now expecting the Amazon man to bring me my piano any day now. Hello Ivory, allow me to introduce you to my tinkle. This time next year my only resolution will be ‘carry on being majestic on your Casio.’

Sold. To the woman in a huff.


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