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"
"Anywhere nice?"
"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."
"Ouch."
"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
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