My thighs were bruised, my fingers were swollen and my left forearm was bulging to rival that of Popeye the Sailor.
That’s right, you guessed it: I’d spent my early Sunday afternoon learning to play the spoons.
As part of the Swindon Fringe Jo May, accompanied by Matt Sullivan on guitar, held a workshop teaching the mystic art of making music via the medium of kitchen utensils. I was one of over 30 attendees and it did my old heart good to see so many people of varying ages turn up to take part in one of the Swindon Fringe’s quirkier offerings.
I couldn’t resist in, even if it meant I’d be forced to rise before noon on a Sunday morning. Who wouldn’t want to learn how to play the spoons? It’s something that has fascinated me since, as a lad, I turned on television’s Doctor Who to see Sylvester McCoy playing cutlery on Kate O’Mara’s décolletage.
TV was different back in those days.
By I digress.
There were a variety of spoons in all sizes available – metal, wooden, plastic, etc. – and Jo May invited us to take our pick our instruments of choice. Out of some dim determination to “do it properly” I chose a pair of conventional and comparatively heavy steel desert spoons. This was the act of a choice dolt as they were easily the most difficult option, slipping in my sweaty grasp, chafing my fingers and battering my knees and thighs in the playing.
I tried one of the specially whittled wooden spoons after, just for size, and they were far easier to grip and less damaging to my person. You live and learn.
And I learnt a lot. Jo May taught us patiently and with endless good humour. Over the hour of the workshop she taught us a series of short phrases to play on our spoons and by the end these were all threaded together into a routine that we played together, with Matt backing us on guitar, to end the lesson.
It was immense fun, despite the physical wear and tear. Everyone went wrong at some point, novices as we were. It hardly mattered. What better way to spend a Sunday afternoon than in a spot of spoon-rattling with a bunch of like-minded folk?
I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep myself out of the cutlery drawer going forward.
reviewed by Ben Thomas
