Except today when a slight catering crisis, coinciding with my birthday, meant we very nearly had devil’s food cake for breakfast in bed this morning. In the end, sanity prevailed and we had cinnamon raisin toast followed by devil’s food cake. Mmm. And then played my new ukelele*. I can now just about do the chords for Sweet Home Alabama (where the skies are so blue) but my ambition is to learn the ukulele version of Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now. Not because I’m a massive Smith’s fan, just because the thought amuses me. It’s easily done
I’ve a feeling that learning to play the ukelele at my age is the downshifter’s version of buying a Harley Davidson. Still, it’s less likely to kill me, is better for the environment, and means I get to watch loads of YouTube videos of very large men playing comically small guitars.
Admit it, secretly, in your heart of hearts, you want a ukulele too. Or have you already got one?
* Or ukulele – even Google, which knows everything, doesn’t seem to know the correct spelling so I’ve decided to standardise on alternating between the two.