I’ve been taking cello lessons for almost six years.
Something like that.
I remember walking past the music school when Beta was still too young to learn an instrument, except maybe a tiny violin, she may have been around three or so, which would make me around 33 at the time, so almost 14 years ago now, walking past the local music school, which is in a nice, old building, a former convent; it was a summery day, and music was coming out of the windows, and flowers were blooming and I thought how nice it must be in that place and how we would support Beta if she ever chose to learn an instrument.
Then she chose harp of all things, when she was what, 7, and a few years later I surprised myself by starting with cello, just as an experiment, just trying it out and then of course was unable to stop because parents must set a good example for their children and quitting is not a good example.
Also, I like the cello very much.
I have not learned as much in those six years as, say, a diligent child might have, because I have other things going on and have not practiced as much as I could have.
But this weekend I played in an orchestra, twice, once to a full house, and didn’t fuck up massively.
Once or twice my bow touched the string prior to the beginning of a piece, and it made a little twang that I think only I, and maybe my teacher, who was sitting beside me, also playing, heard.
I did not fortissimo into a rest in this Bizet piece, which relieved me mightily, as I had feared doing it, and feared that fearing it made it more likely that I actually would.
But I didn’t. There were a couple fiddly bits I sat out, otherwise it went okay I think.
And the orchestra got some nice applause, and we had to play an encore.
I never imagined I’d end up doing this, when I started.