It’s one of those situations where people, especially those with a Brummie accent, will say, “I could see that coming!” Very, very annoying – and the more so because they are right.

The trouble with a mandolin (or mandoline?), as opposed to a ukulele, say, is that it is an inherently dangerous piece of kit. It’s a big razor blade attached to a board. As you whittle away at your cucumber or carrot, back and forth, back and forth, you will soon be sailing close to the wind. And you’ll think, “I’d better be sensible and stop now”. But you will go one slice too far: a slice that takes all seven layers of skin off your thumb (or worse) and leave you clutching a wad of kitchen paper to the bleeding stump and howling, “Ow, ow, ow!!!”. There are lots of nerve endings in your thumb, so it hurts like hell.

So no more guitar (or other stringed instruments) for a while. I know, I know: Django Reinhardt and Tony Iommi went through worse.


Anyway, that’s my excuse for this week. I have another blog in draft and it will be coming at you soon.

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