Last time I was at Mallorca's airport whose name I can't remember now, I saw this, what my late aunt Bette would have called "unfathomable tragedy": Someone had dropped a bottle of red wine. (Or had an open brain haemorrhage while carrying a box of wine.) Some people thought it was me who had done it, but of course not! 1. I would never drop wine and 2. I only like white wine.
I was thinking about that the other day when about 10 Norwegian friends came to Palma. One of them is something of a musical genius, and he became very interested in my two banjos rotting away in the corner with no one to teach me. He kindly offered to change the strings for me (not as easy as it looks, hello!) and I accepted with joy! This could be the push I needed to start playing again.
I finally managed to locate the packets of strings, some of which I had been given by former banjo tutor Adam Petrashune,
some bought on the website Elderly Instruments and some thrown in with my purchase of a light, easy-to-handle banjo in Sydney in 2014. I had so many strings, I could have opened a string quartet boutique!
Except, by an unfathomable tragedy the strings, so carefully stored and lovingly shipped from Hong Kong to Palma, had lived through three Hong Kong summers. They had all rusted right through.