When I was twelve years old, my mother encouraged me to learn to play the piano. As it was something of a family tradition, I agreed to start taking weekly piano lessons with our church’s pianist. I soon realised that piano playing wasn’t going to come naturally to me and that my thirty-minute practice sessions after school each afternoon were the longest thirty minutes in my day.
Somehow after a year of learning to play the piano, I convinced my mother that I was not going to be able to fulfill her dream that another generation in her family would be a proficient piano player. I was like a round …