Guitar...

As you can see from the photograph above, a man who can play the guitar is invariably very popular.

Unsurprisingly, then, as a young boy, I longed for a guitar. With Xmas approaching I cut out the page below from a magazine ( it was called something like Guitar Planet).

Pa Kartoshka was always very contemptuous of musicians. All his records were compilations of movie music. Orchestras seemed ok to him, but he was wary of individual artisites. He thought that playing the guitar was 'kinky'.

I summoned up all my courage and showed the picture to Pa.

'Can you get me one of these for Xmas?'

He looked at the photograph seriously.

'I'll see what I can do...' he said.

I wasn't expecting miracles. Money was tight.

On Xmas day he nodded gloomily towards the hall.

'Your present is out there...'

His morose voice followed me as I eagerly raced out to the hall.

'I don't know why the hell you wanted it though, seems a strange choice to me...'
Sure enough, there it was, hanging in the hall.

A black tuxedo, complete with a pleat fronted shirt and velvet bow tie.

Just one of those misunderstandings that passes between fathers and sons.

'It's not exactly like the one you showed me' he called after me, 'but it was the best that I could do...'

I didn't have the heart to tell him.