I'd started in a rather classical vein. I had lessons from the theatre's percussionist complete with exercises and home-work, frighteningly similar to the piano lessons I'd been forced to endure at home for years. I can't remember the name of my old piano teacher but she would visit me once a week and leave my room smelling like a brimming ash-tray.. I don't even think she actually smoked while she was there...the sheer volume of tabs she'd got though before arriving ensured my room would need its door open for days afterwards. I'm surprised I'm not riddled with lung disease through simply sitting next to her for that hour, once a week. Unfortunately, not surprisingly I suppose, she didn't make the millenium celebrations. I'm pretty sure she didn't even make it through Maggie's third term. Although, maybe I am making huge assumptions here as I remember she was also so myopic, the music would have to be taken off the piano and rested, literally, on the end of her nose for her to read it, so any high edge would have been a disaster waiting to happen...