Torn between two loves

I had my first guitar lesson at the Community College this week. And I’ve already died of the sickness from the Peter Gunn theme and Wipeout. But it was good fun. The teacher is a scruffy-haired, amenable dude, and a lot of the time was spent going around finding out who people are, what their background is, what sort of music they like, interspersed with little spiels about guitar playing in general. When it got to me I finished by saying I’d like to be Glen Hansard. I think I got points for that, because the teacher then went on to tell the class about the strumming holes worn in his guitar. And it got me a friend in the girl sitting nearest to me, because she was at their concert and we got talking. I think I am going to enjoy this.

I am however, now torn between two loves. Last night I went over to the city, and I first dawdled about looking at yarns in Morris and Sons, as I seem to be developing quite a (ridiculous) passion for balls of wool. I just gaze at the glorious colours, pick some kinds up and feel their softness, stretch a few out, look at what they’re made of and where they come from, then put them all back. I never buy anything in there because it is uber-expensive (I actually don’t know how they get away with charging so much above what the rest of the universe charges for the same yarn). From there I went to Allan’s Music shop and looked at guitar things, attempting to hide my ignorance while I tried to work out why there are so many different kinds and sizes of picks (or plectrums as I've discovered is their technical term). And then when I got home I had to divide the rest of the evening up between crochet and the guitar (after getting in some reading on the bus home). It’s difficult!