This time it’s a shiny new guitar. I’d only really meant to go and look, but I’d had half a bottle of Pinot Noir at a family lunch and my critical faculties had long since departed. I had my brother and father in tow, and the former was rather excited at the prospect of spending someone else’s money in a music shop; the latter just looked appalled that I might part with a large wad of cash. It would be very wrong to confess that his response swung the decision for me. Anyway, it’s a delightful Tanglewood Premier and it plays like a dream – well, it would do in the hands of a half-decent guitarist. I now need to find a good home for my old guitar. Lovely as she is, she’s really not designed for someone with big knockers and a dodgy back. I have no idea how Dolly manages.