improvement
My mother - bless her - decided that I was going to be given all the chances in life that she'd never had - whether I wanted them or not. I was sent to so many different clubs and classes, all of which ended badly. For example:

Horse-riding: I was bought the helmet and the silly trousers and sent to a barn on the outskirts to learn how to ride. I hated horses and they hated me. My ride - Nugget - kicked me and bit my knee and was later put down.

Guitar - I was bought a guitar and sent to have lessons. As no-one had ever taught me how to read music, I just strummed the guitar very, very quietly while everyone else was playing a tune. I was discovered imediately and forced to do a solo, which proved to be very unimpressive indeed.

Piano - One lesson. Being a fantasist, my mother assured the teacher that I was highyl proficient. In fact, I had never seen a real piano before and still couldn't read music. After a matter of seconds the piano teacher discerned that I had a cloth ear and sausage fingers, and sent me home.

Elocution lessons - Yes, my mother wanted me to lose my Sheffield accent so I could become the next Tony Curtis. Cue several years or reciting Shakespeare and various dud poets to audiences of politely-clapping pensioners. And being systematically victimised at school for being a 'homo'.

Scouts - One day. We went to the woods to learn 'tracking' and I tracked my way straight back home. The other boys were a bunch of upper-class wankers.

All of which instilled in me the impression that I was a failure at everything - an impression which persists to this very day as I sit here with my job (the third in a year) hanging by a thread.

Cheers mum!
(frankspencer, Tue 13 Mar 2007, 9:20, Reply)