My first Harvey

I was probably eight or nine years old.  I'd been quite good at learning the recorder and my reward was violin lessons.  I don't know what sadist made that link, but that's the way it worked at my primary school.

My parents played along and bought me a violin (which was an utter waste of money).

I think my violin teacher was called Mr Comely, a misnomer if ever there were one.  He was short, portly and had the complexion of a sweaty vampire.

I can't recall whether the lessons were one to one, but I remember I didn't enjoy them.  I didn't complain because mum and dad had bought me a violin which hadn't been cheap.  I mean it was a cheap violin but, apart from my bicycle, it might have been my most expensive possession.

I think the violin lessons took place in Miss Tilney's class.  I liked Miss Tilney and I think she liked me; she used to teach the Year 2 class and I used to pepper my writing with long words I'd selected from the dictionary in an attempt to appear intelligent.  She was strict but I never incurred her wrath.  

Mr Comely used to make me sit on his lap.  I can't recall why; why he insisted, why I complied, why I didn't tell anyone... but I can remember my reticence and my discomfort.  And I think that was the extent of it.  Thankfully I've never done any hypnosis and I'm OK with not remembering anything else. 

I could try and argue that this experience soaked into my psyche and is the reason I have failed at all future musical endeavours but, in truth, I've just never had any talent. 

The Weinstein thing has got my goat, it really has.  It's made me remember so many things that were just plain wrong, and it started very early.