I am the least musical person in the world. I cannot carry a tune. Singing voice – well, let’s just say a bit – lots of bits – better is to be desired.
I can read music. I took piano lessons. When I practiced the piano, the dog would sit at the back door and whine to be let out. When my sister practiced, he would curl up in a ball under the piano bench – if he had been a cat, doubtless he would purr along.
However, despite my own inadequacies in the music department, I really like music. When I was a child, a family friend, Boris – who fled Tsarist Russia after the October Revolution (being a prince) – was a wonderful musician. He played the balalaika and sang melancholy Russian songs. A balalaika, a song bird. Here is to music in all its forms!