“I Found Myself in a Second-Hand Guitar…”

My boyfriend’s guitar.

He let me borrow it so I could practice on it (after much begging and pleading from yours truly). His grandfather gave it to him. I promised him I would guard it with my life.

So, let’s not mention the couple of bangs and bumps as I turned my back to the car door and staircase the other night, yeah? 🙂 Amazing how quickly one can forget there’s a guitar case slung over one’s body….I digress.

I still have my two pretty guitar picks. Pink and purple. I’d originally had three, but I assume I left one in England.

That’s where I’d purchased them anyway. From some music shop at the MetroCentre just outside of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. Nearly two years ago. Time does fly.

I’ve been really wanting to buy myself my own guitar lately, to teach myself. Luckily I have a man who knows a thing or two.

I think I’ll use his in the meantime, until I feel confident that I’ve gotten the hang of what I’m doing. Enough to know that a guitar purchase wouldn’t be a complete waste of money, anyway.

As of now, I’m still rubbish. I’ll give it time…

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