(10)
You arrive at your first trumpet lesson late. You accidentally set fire to your friend's hair in the Chemistry Lab and had to wait to give a statement to the police. Looking around, you are pleased to note that you share your weekly fifteen-minute lesson with only five other students. The trumpet teacher is dressed all in black and appears to be drunk. He hands you your instrument. Getting it out of its case, you cannot help noticing that something seems amiss. "Mine's not as long as theirs" you complain, pointing at the shiny trumpets held by the children around you.
"Erm...yeeesss...slurs Man-In-Black. "I'm afraid we ran out of trumpets. All we had left was this cornet. Jolly sorry about that old chap. I...um...hope you don't mind."
You consider it for a moment. "Having considered it for a moment" you say, "I don't mind". Looking down at the dull, dented cornet in your hands, you feel a sense of destiny being fulfilled. Just for a few seconds you go all mystical and wonder if maybe you ought to become a Buddhist. Fortunately, in a most unchildlike flash of foresight, you quickly reason that this would stop you drinking, gambling and eating meat - severe handicaps if you are serious about learning your chosen instrument. "Super!" you say, unaware that you sound like a character from an Enid Blyton book. "I feel sure that my cornet and I will have a whole host of exciting adventures together. What fun we shall have".
Perhaps you are right. Probably not though.