On a Happy Note...

I won't  have an A# (an A sharp, not hash tag)  music teacher when I re-start my piano lessons later this month. It has taken me four years to get back on the piano stool. Not that I have one of those. Being a rank amateur who only took it up six years ago and endured for two years, the sharpness and gibes of a piano teacher with whom I had no rapport.
I wouldn't say the experience scarred me. Not this ol' elephant hide of mine. But the stingers linger in my mind, causing a rash that cannot be scratched. I had never learnt music in school on the basis that my eleven year old self could not see how this could possibly be of use to me. So learning to read music was a foreign language, and I was not a fast pupil. One day this teacher asked if I'd had "special needs" in school because evidently I wasn't learning as fast as some of her many, and mostly young students. Then, as my face betrayed signs of distress as I chomped my way through a musical exercise, she would tell me off for "gurning". Yes, I must have looked like Les Dawson, but at least he really could play the piano.
This new teacher believes that learning should be enjoyable. Music indeed, to my ears. So I have got out the music note cards and downloaded an app on the phone, and I am going to brush up on my musical notation so that I can give myself the very best start.
The girl needs discipline. (The boy needs his shed.)

Go to Youtube and listen to Les Dawson on the piano to brighten your day.