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Tuesday, August 9, 2011

#100blogfest is at Self-Publishing Central


Self-Publishing Central welcomes Martin King's #100blogfest. This is what it's all about:


#100blogfest

“100 blogs as a child” August Tour. I am attempting to write 100 blogs as a guest at 100 different websites in the single month of August. You can stop whistling now. This works out at roughly 3 a day (Okay Mr. Mathematics nerd, 3.2258… to be exact). What am I going to blog about? This is an interesting question you’ve just posed. After a lot of thought about this, I decided 100 different things I got up to as a kid. So many people tell me they cannot believe how much I can remember about my childhood. It doesn’t matter what age you are, we all have fantastic memories about ‘the good old days’. And for the younger ones who are still, young (jealous), they will be able to go ‘Hey I did that only last week.’ Each and every site is connected with writing in some way or another, be it an established author, or an author wannabee, book reviewing site etc. A few of the authors have decided to write their own fond memory too, which should be fun!! Thanks for taking the time to look.

And here is today's post from Martin:

Did you ever want to play an instrument? Do you remember taking a comb and some tracing paper to make a crude form of one? We were so inventive back in those days. If you were lucky then your parents might have bought you a Rolf Harris (wrong – I’m not going to say didgeridoo) Stylophone. Now that was a great invention.

Then in music class you got to play with the maracas or the triangle. Then there were instruments with weird sounding names such as the xylophone or glockenspiel.

I remember having a recorder and going to recorder lessons. I think I learnt the two classics, London’s Burning and Three Blind Mice that every child seems to learn. And perhaps you may have had a piano; a lot of houses did back then before they ended up at the local gala being smashed to bits by the local strongmen in a piano smashing contest.

I did try to play the guitar and the drums in my later years, but I think I was destined never to play an instrument. But it was when I was about twelve at High School that my main memory takes me. I was desperate to play an instrument in music class. But because it was so long ago, I cannot remember the reason I received the instrument I did.

Maybe I was the last in the queue or our music teacher, Mr. Powell had figured out I wasn’t very talented. But can you guess what I was privileged with learning? The Tuba!

Can you believe that? And to make matters worse, we live miles from school and I had to walk home. So every week I would have to lug this great box full of the wonderful metal, musical delights of a contraption that wouldn’t even work. No matter how hard I blew into that thing, it wouldn’t play me a single, beautiful note.

These blogs are all about fun and sharing. Thank you for reading a ‘#100blogfest’ blog. Please follow this link to find the next blog in the series.

Thanks for stopping in, Martin. Best of luck to you in your blog travels!

That's it for today.

Cheers!

John

4 comments:

  1. I LOVE the tuba :) I was an alto sax girl.

    I'm absolutely following.
    ecwrites.com

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  2. I was supposed to learn to play the recorder in 3rd and 4th grade, but none of us ever really did. We only had music class once a week for about an hour. It was just a bunch of little kids making horrible noise!

    Thanks for taking part in #100blogfest, John. I'm now following you! You can follow me and read my #100blogfest post at rachelbrookswrites.blogspot.com

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  3. Those recorders, and the poor mums & dads having to listen to a murdered tune! Made a penny whistle out of a hollow stick of liquorish by biting off the ends and making holes along the length. Great fun. Thanks for sharing.

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  4. Thanks to all you lovely folks who have commented so far.

    Personally, I played both the tuba and the recorder (aka flutophone). I also played trumpet and piano...and still play guitar and bass. I love music.

    Thanks for the memories, Martin King.

    Cheers!

    John

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