[Acrylic-bob]

For two years my mother paid for me to be taught to play the piano twice a week, under the insane delusion that I would always be invited to parties if I could play the piano. Mrs. Serjeant soon sussed out that I had no interest or ability whatsoever, and so we spent our two hours, often a lot longer, per week just talking. I learned so much! My mother, disappointed with my lack of progress at becoming the party circuit favorite of the future, decided that I should be taught by Mrs Bridge. What a snooty, stuck up harridan! I hated her on sight, and I have the feeling that the loathing was mutual. During the second lesson she managed to reduce me to tears, ME! The cow!

So I had to put my foot down, and point blankly refused to have anything more to do with my mother's half-baked fantasies.

Your post really made me sad, Lettie. What a terrible way for such a lovely lady to die.