You have to overcome that sneaky weasel that whispers ‘don’t
bother, you can’t do it.’ So, I dusted
off the acoustic and tried a few chords.
Quite surprising actually. I’d
fully expected the problem area to be on the right, because that’s where the
embolism was; the arm itself gets tired and aches, and the fingertips feel
permanently sore, and my grip isn’t as strong as it used to be. So I’d guessed that gripping a plectrum and
vigorously strumming, with my right hand and arm, would be the problem area.
Not a bit of it. Well,
yes, the gripping bit is a bit unreliable, but I’ve found a nifty thumb-pick
which mostly solves that. (Rog, you were
more than half right. Another symptom is
that the extremities are susceptible to the cold.) And the strumming muscles need toning
up.
No, the problem area is my left hand. To be precise, the fingertips. They need to get hardened up. When I first played the guitar, at age fifteen,
we used to use surgical spirit to toughen them up, but I’m not going to go that
far. I did ten minutes Wednesday
evening, twelve Thursday, fifteen Friday, fifteen tonight. Should be all right on the night.
The family singsong is in fact going to be a bit more than
that. They’ve apparently invited about twenty
people for Boxing Day lunch – you have to admire these people’s energy levels
and dedication, even while recognising that they’re quite mad – and I guess
singing will commence about six p.m. All
that suits me; it’s much easier to control a crowd of twenty than one of
eight. Appropriate quantities of
anaesthetic will have been applied. (I
gather it’s a fairly acceptable Argentine Malbec this year.) The format will be as usual: Green Green
Grass, Tie a Yellow Ribbon, my party piece (usually Got You Under My Skin),
then I’ll invite requests and we’ll do part of American Pie as a finale. Should be over in seventy minutes max.
(I’ve just realised that the post title is wrong – I’m off
to Dorset for three days tomorrow, and won’t be taking the guitar.)
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