Some time last summer, Burtdad put on his traveling slippers and the same playlist he's been rocking for the last decade, and made his way across the continent to visit. I always greatly enjoy and anticipate Burtdad's visits, even if there's not a huge amount to do when he gets here. I knew we'd both be happy to see each other and we'd have some good times.

Burtdad, you'll obviously know, is also a van man. Nay, he's the van man - the very one that spawned the bug in me that eventually led to this website and this life (see the story so far for all you need to know).

As usual, the last few days were a flurry of calls and messages regarding travel details, laced with cheek, throughout. The inevitable question arose; "Do you want me to bring anything?", and my usual answer was given; "Just yourself, lad.", followed by "although...", and a list of demands. Chief among them, this time around, a writing bureau for Burt (see A New Bureau to find out how grand it was).

But there was another gift, and that's what this post is really about.

You see, growing up, there were always instruments in our house, because pretty much all my family are artists of one kind of another. But being a child, I was more interested in computer games, bikes and getting stuck in things, so I never gave those instruments much time. As I grew up, I developed a small amount of patience (I'm just being honest) and eventually encountered and stuck with drums.

But you can't write a song on the drums.

So, after all those wasted years, and all those guitars, violins, pianos, basses, flutes, harmonicas and accordions I never touched, Burtdad presented me with this beautiful gift, and I've been getting quite good at it, over the past few months.

Six strings and a world of new ideas, hand delivered from England.

Thanks, Burtdad. I'll always cherish this one. :)

PS: As I progress with this particular adventure, those of you who have the Red Key will be able to hear some demo songs and other recordings, by clicking here.