and makes misodoctakleidists, too

Well, I'm glad I've finally got a title for all that non-effort I put into piano practice when I was a kid.

[story]I always wanted to be able to play the piano, the same as a lady named Heather who played piano in our church. My parents sent me to lessons before school twice a week (at age 6) with a Catholic Nun who was 90 years old if she was a day. Her marriage to Jesus/the Church was obviously not a very happy one, and she didn't exactly inspire joy in me - or any of her other students for that matter. She held a steel ruler over my hands, and if they slipped into a "lazy" position, she would hit my knuckles with the ruler. Ouch!

Practising was a different matter... we didn't have a piano at home, so I had to practice in the church hall. My older brother (2 yrs older) would take me over to the hall while it was still daylight and leave me there, so that when my practice time was up it would be dark, and in a big spooky church hall, it wasn't a pleasant experience. Let alone walking home past the next door neighbours greyhounds (who had already eaten one of our cats).

Quite the saga, but I wish I'd managed to continue... the lack of desire to practice made my parents decide that it wasn't worth the money. [/story]

Thanks indulging me while I story told.