School of rock
Who wouldn’t want to be a rock star? With money, adulation and spandex on tap, job satisfaction is virtually guaranteed. Trouble is, I don’t exactly have the credentials to make the transition from lowly journalist to lofty rock hero. For one, I’m a tired 45-year-old dad who can often be found wearing Tarocash chinos at the weekend. More importantly, I have about as much musicality as a recycling bin being emptied onto a stone floor. Still, I’ve always wanted to learn to play the guitar… and drums, and keys. As eyepatch-wearing ’90s songstress Gabrielle once said, dreams can come true. Especially if you have some snazzy tech to help thrust me onto a makeshift stage with a bunch of cool kit to try and transform me into a bona-fide musical maestro.
