I’ve written a piece of music. How up my own jacksie it that? Actually it’s not but that’s the way I’ve been brought up to think. It’s a piece of music for the piano. It’s fairly classical in style. It’s not brilliant by any stretch of the imagination but I like it. I only did it because the previous night I’d had a discussion with someone about writing music and I categorically stated it would be near impossible for me to write music because since I started playing the piano, all I could do was read the music infront of me. I was never one of those people who could just sit at a piano stool and play whatever came into their head. I was always jealous of that ability. Some people have a natural talent for music, a musical ear as it were. I haven’t got that. I can be taught to play but it’s not a gift - um, strange word to use, like someone bestows such things, well, lets just go with an evolutionary inclination instead. So, as if to prove a point to myself, mainly, that I was incapable, I sat at the piano the next day and wrote a tune, with chords and everything. As you can gather, I really surprised myself. It was a ball-ache to do admittedly. I had to write every single note down as I played it because as I think I mentioned earlier, I’ve got a really poor memory. But a few hours later I had something half decent. Wait for the funny bit. After I’d written it all down in note form and put it infront of me, I couldn’t play it! It was too hard! My Les Dawson impression came back to haunt me. I’d put flats and sharps all over the place which would have sounded bizarre and lovely had I actually hit the right notes. Oh well, live and learn. I’ll eventually transfer it into a sound 194
programme on the computer but I don’t know how to use that either so it may have to wait til I accrue a tad more patience.
Wouldn’t you think after being around as a species for all these years, we would have learned to cope better with life’s misfortunes? Think of how we completely fall to pieces when someone we love dies. Even if they are old aged and have been ill for a long time, we still fail to cope very well with our grief. I cry sometimes thinking about losing those I love, even my pets. I do believe we should celebrate peoples lives more though instead of the dirge we go though.
Funerals really do need to change. They add to our depression. They emphasise the fact that we need to be miserable and understand what a loss this is.
Everyone knows that. They don’t need to feel worse.
Where is the appreciation of having known a person, the thankfulness that they were great, that they weren’t a twat, that they were capable of loving us and us them. This gets lost somewhere. When I die, I’d love nothing more than to think people would have a knees up, remembering all the stupid stuff I said and did and how I was fun to be around. I’d want people to laugh and be glad they knew me. Is that too much to ask? For centuries we’ve followed the same traditions. Well, I despise tradition. Life’s all about change. Make your own world. Those that went before won’t mind.
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