Mandolin

The Wandering Mandolin

My name has changed so many times; there are even many ways to spell me, never mind play me.

I’m pretty old now and a little battered and have often and for many years been enclosed and left safe within a case that is as battered as I. Strings missing and un-tuned and not living the purpose for which I was created, but not uncared for; though perhaps not in the way that my maker would have liked, nor me for that matter.

This is the begining of something I started writing about the trials and tribulations of my grandfathers mandolin. I didn't get very far before I forgot all about it. Perhaps one day I shall return to the idea, that's if I remember. It'll probably go the same way as Jacobs Sheep!