Thank you for the music

Posted by Lucy Robinson at 21:35 on 13 Jan 2010

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Well thank you, once more, for your messages of support, readers: your outrage brought a smile to my face. Comment of the year (and I am absolutely confident that it's comment of the year, even though we're only two weeks into January) was from "A" who wrote that Jake will probably lose his septum and die of syphilis. Whoever you are, A, you made me roar with laughter on what was otherwise a bumcrack of a day and I thank you. (Runner up goes to Daniella who kindly offered to date me if I turned gay. I'll keep you posted on that one: it's by no means out of the question.)
 
So, I've been in a beastly funk about it all over the last few days. I explained to Jake that I didn't want to see him again, he replied saying that I was 'mental' and 'had issues' and is now stalking me; calling me at 4.30am and sending increasingly crazed emails. The irony of this is not lost on me.

Now. Two things have helped to alleviate my state of funk. 1) Reminding myself that there are plenty of people out there with real problems and 2) joining an orchestra.

Silence.

What? you ask.

You heard - I said I joined an orchestra. I am now a fully-fledged orchestral geek and I damned well love it!

When I left home at 18, I was a reasonably accomplished individual. I was a grade 8 violinist, a crap pianist, on/off star of the local amdram scene, a competent horse rider and the devourer of at least 40000 books a week. I could sing, I could dance; hell, I even wrote poetry when my head was the right distance up my arse. (BTW, none this was because I was remotely gifted: it happened because my parents all but ruined themselves to give me as many opportunities as possible.)

But all I was interested in when I started at university was being cool. I followed the average student trajectory of work/booze/sleep/work/booze/sleep/work/booze/oh-f*ck-it's-the-final-year-I'd-better-do-some-work and in the process carelessly neglected all the things that I'd enjoyed when I was younger. "Perhaps I'll start doing some decent extra-curricular stuff when I move to London," I thought.

When I moved to London, nothing changed; I just replaced university with an extremely time-consuming job.

By the time I got to 25 I'd started to panic. "You used to be someone" said a mocking voice in my head. "Now you are nobody."

Ok. That was a bit over the top. But you know what I mean.

And so finally - FINALLY - as I knock on the door of thirty, I have done something about it.It only took 12 years! I took my fiddle to the nice violin man who fixed it and then - after a few wimp outs - I joined an amateur orchestra this week. And I had the time of my life. I don't remember the last time I had such a high - I couldn't sleep afterwards I was grinning so much. I've barely looked at a piece of music manuscript in 12 years but it all came flooding back; all of those funny squiggles and weird Italian words.

Make no mistake, I was shockingly bad. But it just didn't matter - everyone was lovely; nobody laughed when I made a noise like a cat being molested during an atmospheric pause and then a lovely man called Nigel bought me a cup of tea and a jammy dodger in the break and told me I was doing brilliantly.

Now. I am by no means trying to pass myself off as some sort of role-model - Jesus, I can't think of a worse person to take advice from - but, nonetheless,  I hereby urge you - with all my might - to try to carve out some time to revisit an old hobby or start up a new one this year. I am kicking myself for not doing this earlier and come what may, however busy things get, I'm going to make sure I have time to do this. Because it's reminded me of who I used to be in a nicer, simpler time.

Go on. Try it. You won't regret it.

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