Yes I know you all think (those of you who haven’t read my me page) that I must play the cello being as I am, called Cellobella.
Well the truth is that I can’t play the cello. At all.
In fact in my earliest days online I used to call myself Weathergirl because well, I used to occasionally present the weather – the last time when I was 8 and a half months pregnant so you know it was a long time ago. Anyway for some reason that handle fell away and my eldest was 3 and I started him on Suzuki Cello.
This was mainly because my new friend The Poshi had enrolled her son, also 3, and thought it would be cool if we shared lessons. I, not wanting to be outdone by someone clearly a more organised and therefore better mother than me, agreed and so it was that we’d travel to Palmyra every week with an overgrown viola in the back seat to sit through half hour after half hour of agonising Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.
Of course he wouldn’t practice. He. Was. Three.
So I thought – because I was clearly going to be A Good Mother – I would buy a cello and practice along with him. It was a win-win I thought. He would be encouraged to play and therefore I wasn’t wasting my money, time and petrol AND I would learn the cello, an instrument I’ve admired since The Witches of Eastwick (go and get the DVD if you don’t know what scene I’m referring to).
My plan was to learn the first cello suite by JS Bach – as played by Yo Yo Ma. Play the video to get the full surround sound experience.
Oh this just sends me. I want this played at my funeral. Okay maybe not by Yo Yo Ma (he’s way too famous), but by someone else who can play it. I love the bit towards the end where he sounds like he’s playing two cellos at once.
In fact what would be my dream is to find someone who will teach me just this piece. I don’t want to play anything else – just this one 2 minute 38 second piece – really well. It is so beautiful.
Of course, my son hated me playing my cello – it was too loud compared to his little one – he refused to practice if my cello was out of its bag. He gave up aged 5. But my new handle – Cellobella – stuck.
Anyhoo I saw my cello, out there in the backroom where it has languished now for nearly 8 years, when we cleaned the guest quarters last weekend for The Dark Horse.
Why don’t you sell it? Asked Groover for maybe the hundredth time.
But I can’t sell it.
Because that would be like selling out on my dream.
And while that cello is sitting there, my dream is still a possibility.
This is me practicing all those years ago…
This is my son’s reaction…