You could call it the tamest of mid-life crises, but as I turned 40 last year, I decided to devote myself to a long-neglected ambition – learning the guitar. I dutifully set myself the task of practising for 30 minutes a day, with the aim of strumming my way through the Bob Dylan songbook by my 41st birthday.
What stood in the way, of course, was life. With work and family commitments, I was lucky to find a free half-hour time more than once or twice a week. Each day that went by without practice left me feeling more demotivated, and the guitar soon started gathering dust next to my piano.
