Learn to play the guitar.
For my 16th birthday I had pestered my parents enough to buy me a British Racing Green Squire Stratocaster. That doesn’t seem like a big deal to most proud guitar owners yet to me it was a gateway to musical legendaryness. (Ok I made up that word but I’m building a picture)
I sat on my bed with my 10 watt amp, chord instruction book and more enthusiasm than heather mills bank manager. I was adamant that my new hobby was going to fund me through life. I would be recognised as a female Jimi Hendrix. I had already developed a crazed crush on Richie Sambora, been to see the red hot chilli peppers and checked out muses sliding skills.
However there is one rather large technicality, I can’t play. My attempts to play sweet sweet music turned into the brutal assignation of a cat. Sweet child of mine turned into sweet Jesus make it stop.
My dad tried to rekindle my music appreciation by taking me to see Eric Clapton; our seats were so close to the guitaring genius that I could see his fingers stroking the frets. I made a promise to myself there and then that I would learn to play Layla one day for the full 6 minutes.
I’m yet to complete the challenge so any offers of assistance would be greatly appreciated I don’t know where to start.
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