Little Drummer Boy - It’s not easy being one of four kids, especially when you’re the youngest and the thickest….. but maybe as you’re always the last sibling to do anything you look for something different, a way of standing out, putting your head about the sibling parapet (which would be a great name for a band)That’s what I did, from as young as I can remember I loved the drums -from as long as I can remember I was just hitting things, pencils with balls of blu tac on the end (other sticky substances for attaching posters to walls are available) cardboard boxes and old ice cream containers, You have to understand this was a passion, a longing, a belonging, drums would give me stomach cramps when I saw a drum kit. I didn’t have posters on my wall of Sam Fox or Tiffany, or Duran Duran and Glen Maderos I had pictures of drums…. The thing is I wasn’t measured on my ability as a drummer I was looked at more as a slightly failing academic - to be pushed down the uni route regardless of if I wanted to go, which to be fair I did, - but I also wanted to be a drummer. The story is about how well intended, intelligent parents - both teachers, were happy to push their children into seemingly impossible careers - heart surgeon, judge, accountant but wouldn’t countenance me being a successful musician. But it’s more than that, it’s about growing up in the 80s, how having parents from different religious backgrounds, deep sibling rivalry and competitiveness (which still exists).Neighborhood disputes one complained the other encouraged, and how we now parent and understand our kids differently… or maybe not!Oh and it will be funny!!
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