My entire life is a complete fabric of lies, for which I am very sorry (apart from all my Mirth and Woe stories which are all 100% of TRUTH, you'll be pleased to hear).
This for example:
To my eternal shame, I went years telling people that I was a rather talented and enthusiastic musician. This resulted in an offer to go on a European tour with a well-known goth-rock band* as their keyboard player at the height of their fame.
The awful truth was that while I had spent the best part of a grand on a very excellent Korg Poly-61 keyboard and assorted add-ons, I was, in fact, a complete musical dyslexic who had been booed off stage as a result of my eardrum-rending musical ineptitude. Twice.
Fellow Blogger Balders - with whom I have jammed on a number of occasions (translation: set up all our gear, let the presets do all the work and watch Pat - the only genuine musician amongst us - play the guitar) - can attest to my complete lack of hap in the face of any kind of musical instrument.
Legendary Goth Rockers: I lied.
I have not learned. I still tell the most enormous whoppers:
Him: "I haven't seen you for ages"
Me: "No, I've been on a motoring trip across Europe"
"Oh, you know... Austria... Slovenia... Italy"
"Wow. Must have cost a bit."
"Too right. We only popped out to IKEA for the afternoon. Got lost on the way to Lakeside."
"Too right. Bit of an escape, really."
Colleague who shall remain nameless: I lied. I have never been to Austria.
* who shall remain anonymous, but their name rhymes with Boards of the Poo Lurch