My grandad had a pretty good singing voice (as did my dad) and he was a long time member of our local church choir at St Andrew’s in Newcastle. Of course it was only natural that his own boy should follow the family tradition. Whether I could sing or not wasn’t important. I have to admit the idea of seeing myself in a cassock and surplus didn’t float my boat but the threat of a drop in pocket money did serve as an incentive.
Note from Malcolm: Believe it or not Keith I also sang in the local church choir as a lad and like you had to wear the cassock, surplus and frilly collar. We were paid 30 pence a month! End of note.
Whether or not the choir practices and church services were a good grounding for my years behind a microphone is a matter for debate but they did whet my appetite for singing and put me on that path, so in a roundabout way I do have my dad to thank for that. Regrettably when I set off with my first guitar to join a band with some pals from school I think it came back to bite him on the leg! From his point of view I guess he saw it as a passing fad. It was ok for a hobby but of course at some stage I would obviously stop messing around and get a “proper job”.
Actually the band lasted right through school and on into sixth form. We actually did a few gigs (which I may elaborate on at a later date - look on this as an early warning) but of course all good things must come to an end and I had to make some sort of choice as to what to do next. Apart from blundering around on a guitar I wasn’t much of a hands on type so life down the coal mine or in the shipyard weren’t really at the top of my career list. Obviously (eh?) I decided to try my hand at becoming a teacher… I mean I’d been on the receiving end for enough years so how hard could it be?... and all those lovely long holidays!
Cheers K.