He looks too big to play a violin. He looks as though he should be riding an elephant across the Alps, or leading a band of desperadoes in 19th century Mexico. He looks as though any one of his fingers would be unable to avoid pressing three strings at a time and he’d play all the wrong notes. And when he gets to the fast bits, you’d think the chair would collapse.
So what made him choose something as delicate as a violin? Was it a response to some deep psychological trauma, perhaps, like having had the nickname ‘The Abominable Snowman’ when he was at school? Does the white shirt give the clue to it all?
* * *
I played the trombone in the school orchestra, you know. Everybody else was rubbish, even Jennifer Howell who played the cello, which is an awful shame considering the knee positions of lady cellists. Not that Jennifer was any lady. She got me into trouble in the school play: she forgot her lines, and I got the blame. What I could never understand, though, was why the string section was perpetually flat. How could they all get their fingers in the wrong place at the same time? Seems they did.
When I left school I took up the guitar.
I could have been someone.
Well, so could anyone.
Best Christmas song ever. If only it wasn’t March, I’d listen to that instead.