Back in the distant past I used to play guitar. Not well, but well enough for a punk band. Since then I gave it up, nominally because I have tendonitis and just can't play like I used to. The songs I wrote were too fast for me to play anymore, so I quit.

I even bequeathed my guitars to two of my best friends, who still play, as they were wasted on me, just collecting dust (virtually speaking, they were in their cases). Eventually I just gave them to my friends, because why wait until I'm dead? Better they go to a good home and maybe get used once in a while by folks that can play better than I ever could.

I stand by my decision and I'm happy that Red and Elvira (my guitars) both have good homes.

But I missed the catharsis of banging out some punk rock. Playing was always a great way to relieve stress. Times being what they are I started to get a jones to play, even if I couldn't play like I once could.

So here I am, awaiting a new arrival…