Once upon a time, many many years ago I used to play the guitar.

I actually played it  lot.  I was in several groups and was generally reasonably regarded amongst my peers.

I have three instruments – a six string acoustic, a twelve string acoustic and a classical [nylon stringed] guitar.  They proudly hang on the wall and make a slightly different alternative to pictures or whatever.

These instruments have traveled all around Ireland and even to the UK [I once played at the Cambridge Folk Festival].  The old repertoire consisted mainly of folk, contemporary and Irish traditional stuff.

I haven’t played in years.  I actually remember the last time I plucked a string.  It was at the bash that was held in the RTE Social Club when I was leaving [the bash where I ended up in hospital.  Hah!].  It came as a bit of a surprise to my IT colleagues who knew nothing of my musical past.  That was twenty two years ago,

I just took down one of the guitars.  It took me a while to tune it up.  I tried a chord or two.  It was horrible.  My left hand finger tips are soft – in the olden days they were hard and calloused.  They remembered the chords all right but my fingers didn’t seem to fit between the strings any more [and that was on the wide nylon stringed instrument].  The right hand was all over the place – stiffer joints and no  memory of the various finger-styles I used to use.

Fuck it.

They still make a nice wall decoration.