KATE’S KITCHEN

Now, clearly it’s absurd to own a guitar you can’t play.  

Well, I’d always liked music.  The first thing I remember hearing - I must have been two or three, maybe four - was a record my parents were playing downstairs while I was in bed.  It was the Soldiers’ Chorus from Gounod’s Faust. As I listened I got pictures in my head, images I can still call up if I want.  I spent decades after that thinking everyone saw pictures when they listened.  Apparently not everyone does.

The first record I bought for myself was Rossini’s William Tell Overture, which is fast and furious, and exactly right for the aspiring cowboy (see photo in A Ludicrous Suggestion) who rode the back of the sofa shooting imaginary hoodlums and doing good.  I spent large amounts of time careering round the house belting out favourite cowboy themes - The Lone Ranger, Champion the Wonder Horse, Rawhide - and eventually spent large amounts of pocket money on film and tv soundtracks - The Alamo, How the West was Won, Bonanza, Bronco.

So when, at about 11, I said I wanted to learn classical guitar, my parents found a teacher who recommended a Tatay Spanish Guitar - the one I still use - which my Dad bought for me.  

I had a few lessons with him but when he started asking me to go camping with him so we could play together round a campfire, I got frightened and stopped going.  I never told anybody, put the guitar away, and returned to dreams of football.

Which brings us to Jeremy’s ludicrous suggestion of forming a group…..(see A LUDICROUS SUGGESTION)

Jeremy and I both failed A Levels at public school (of course) and finally ended up at Slough College for retakes.

By this time we were playing as a duo, calling ourselves NTP, in folk clubs and the odd pub.  We used to go into college, register, and then sag off to Kate’s Kitchen, a greasy spoon 10 minutes from the college.  We’d buy the music papers and spend the day reading them, drinking coffee and talking about “making it” and what we’d do when we were famous.

At the end of the year Jeremy predictably sailed through his exams….and I , equally predictably, didn’t.  Which meant another year at the college for me while he, always the clever-clogs, swanned off to university.

Which will bring us (eventually) to The Ultra Smooth Swagger Band….