Prologue
When I pick up a drum, all I can think about is playing it. It makes me so happy.
So happy that I’d laugh in the face of a phone queue, a flat tyre, a parking attendant. A parking attendant could give me a thousand tickets and I wouldn’t give a flying f**k, as long as I have a drum to play.
Drumming does it for me; it’s like illegal s*x, s*x that you shouldn’t be doing. In fact, better than illegal s*x, because I don’t wake up in the morning feeling guilty.
Danny, my teacher, says I am a natural.
Steven says the only thing Danny can teach is how to drink. He says Danny’s as much a teacher as he is a pole dancer.
Sheryl says I exaggerate like Beatrice, her mum, that I’ve been with her too long. And Beatrice?
Well, she thinks I’m a saint, she told me as much. But she doesn’t
