Ear-ly in the mor-ning?

This weekend, we bought guitars.

Plural.

He got a cherry red electric guitar. I got an acoustic guitar. They were second hand, from a well-loved home. They came with an assortment of old folk, blues and rock books, a pile of backing tracks on CD, and a collection of guitar goodies. A strap, a capo, some polish.

We plugged in, tuned up, and sang along to sea shanties and folk songs.

As you do, on a Sunday evening when the rain is coming down and you're comfortably full of food (a long-overdue luncheon date with friends at a South African restaurant was gastronomically satisfying - and filling).


It has been a long time since I last picked up a guitar, but it seems to be one of those things you don't forget. Hours of practicing chords and picking came back in a flash of finger muscle memory. Oh yes, an A minor. Don't think about it too much and you might even be able to play a few songs in key.

We picked and strummed and sang. We practiced chord changes. Oh, the poor neighbours.

Sing-along music has definitely been absent from our lazy weekend afternoons. All that was missing was a crackling fireplace and a chorus of sailors to back up our renditions.