“Can He really play?” someone whispered.
“Heavens no!” my wife exclaimed “remember last Christmas?”
Joe had just sung “Oh Holy Night.” The room rang with applause. I decided that this would be a dramatic moment for me to make my guitar instrumental debut. To the amazement of my friends I strode confidently over to the corner, took my guitar from behind the tree, and I sat down.
“Jack is up to his old tricks again,” someone chuckled.
The crowd laughed. They were all certain that it was going to be the same disaster as Halloween.
“Can he really play?” I heard someone whisper to my son.
“Not really!” he exclaimed. “He never practised a day in his life…
But just watch him. This is going to be fun!”
I decided to make the most of the situation. With mock dignity, I sat forward and straightened my back, sitting bolt upright. Then, I placed the guitar on my left leg. I put my left hand on the strings with my right hand resting just below the sound-hole, just as I had seen serious classical-guitarists do before playing.
“What do you think of his execution?” called a voice from the rear.
“We’re in favour of it!” came back the answer and everyone roared with laughter.
Then I started to play . . .