Another Dream That Never Came True

When I was about seven, I wanted to play the violin.

I’d always liked the sound of the violin, I liked the way they looked and I thought they were a lot more impressive than a guitar. Which is saying something, because I was pretty fascinated by my Dad’s guitar.

And even though I kept saying that I wanted to play the Violin, I think initially my Mum brushed it off as a flighting fancy. I was a hyperactive whirl wind of a child, and I couldn’t decide on what I wanted to be when I was older. I got bored with games quickly and I would flit from one thing to the other and back again to keep myself constantly entertained.

I’d be lying if I said I’d completely grown out of that now, but some of that still remains. I do constantly need something to do and I still flit from one thing to another.

Anyway, so, my Mum said no. She used to play the Violin when she was at school and she hated it. There were, of course, other reasons as to why she wouldn’t allow me to try and learn the violin.

First and foremost, they’re very expensive instruments and we were a very poor family. Some people say they’re poor and yet they can afford a car and the petrol costs on top. We couldn’t. We’ve never had a car, and if by some miracle we did, we wouldn’t have had the petrol money for it. We were really properly council housing and walking everywhere kind of poor.

So an expensive instrument I could potentially lose interest in? Not the wisest of investments. Expensive Instrument that would require expensive lessons to learn, in order to keep interest and motivation to play said instrument? A slightly better investment but even more out of our budget.

Of course, the biggest and most important reason my Mum had for not letting me have a violin, learn to play a violin, try and get some sort of really cheap deal going so that I could have a future in playing the voilin somewhat professionally so that the initial costs might pay off one day?

My disability. Which is why I can’t take it up now, even though I’d really like to.

Holding a violin for most children is awkward, but eventually bodies adapt, muscles build and tiring arms would stop being a problem. Between my back, my ill-proportioned body and my inability to sit comfortably on your average chair, it would have been a struggle to keep hold of a violin long enough to build up some sort of tolerance.

The older that I’ve got, the worse my body’s got. Sad, but true.

But I just wish I’d have gotten a chance to just try. I wish my primary school had had a violin in the instrument trolley, in amongst the rainsticks, xylophones, bongos, tambourines, triangles, maracas and other instruments that I don’t know the name of.

I remember being given a variety of instruments that needed to go on my knees, except they needed two hands to be played but I didn’t have a good way to sit on a chair that would have stopped the instrument from slipping out of place. I refused to play any wind instruments cos I was a germophobe, and I never saw them wash the mouth pieces. I didn’t even drink out of the same cup as my brother at home, I wasn’t going to share a musical instrument that had been emerged in someone else’s mouth.

So that left me with instruments I had to shake, twirl, spin or flick. Not exactly a set of instruments that you’d find a demand of in the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra.

And I listen to music today with violins in, in fact I go out of my way to buy violin-based music, and I’m just as mesmerised. And it takes me back to when I was seven and wanting a violin. I can’t help but feel cheated out of something.

At least I could play the guitar, had a shot of the drums and gave the keyboard a go. The Violin has always been out of my reach.

And of course people have turned around to me and said I should give the Violin a go anyway. I feel like these people are living in a dream-zone. I can’t spend £500 on a semi-decent instrument, a further £100 on what I’m led to believe would be a low-quality bow, and all the extra expenses of polishes, resins, cleaning materials, strings on top on a whim, to see how well, or how badly, I’d be able to cope in learning to try and play the violin.

The problem is this new polar opposite attitude some people have towards disabilities. It is the exact opposite situation to where we were all ignored and considered useless. No, this new attitude brings a blindness to disability in such a way it’s just as harmful, in the hands of the wrong people. So what if I have a back that collapsed and nerve damage down my right arm! Stephen Hawking has a form of Motor Neuron Disease and he’s still giving life a go!*

Yes, it’s all wonderful that people have faith in us disabled people these days to be on par with the rest of society, now that we have the Equal Opportunities Movement. There’s practically no good reason, in these people with these opinion’s minds, for anyone with a disability to not at least try.

Except sometimes disabilities do actually impose physical impossibilities and do actually hold us back in life, in some circumstances; and holding a violin well and truly comfortable enough to play one song probably is one of them. It would be a large waste of money, that quite frankly needs to go elsewhere, just to see.

And I’m out of any situation now that might land a free one in my lap for an hour, like a good school could have done. I could have even had a chance in high school had we been able to afford some sort of private music lessons. There were school-stock violins in the music cupboard, for people learning through the private music lessons but weren’t at an advanced stage enough to justify having their own (way-more-expensive-and-less-warped) instrument.

Ah, I’m feeling wistful. It’s all a shame, and it’s all very annoying. It would have been nice to try, that’s all.

 On the other hand, because I can’t bare to end this blog on a bad note (Oh no, was that a pun!?), maybe it is better to have never loved at all than to have loved and lost the knowledge and experience of holding a violin and actually playing it. Even badly. Like with my beloved Guitar.

*Something which has actually been said to me.

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