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"We could work on the handle bit!"

"We'll need strings!"

"We'll need those wires that go across the handle thing!"

Neither was yet familiar with terms like "neck", "frets" or "machine heads". It was decided that one of them would get to work constructing a tremelo arm from an old Meccano set, a plan already unsuccessfully tried on the unfortunate blue and while ukelele, but considered worth another shot on this rather more substantial piece of ex-coffee table, while the other would go into the village to Wheelers radio shop in search of fret wire and strings.

Mr Wheeler ran the electrical shop. He had probably opened the shop in his youth and spent a good many years anxiously awaiting the invention of electricity hoping it would arrive before bankruptcy. But times were different. He was a stalwart of the cricket club, probably a Rotarian and a member of all the respectable societies and clubs associated with a small town. He sold radios, gramophones, toasters, the odd TV, a handful of 78rpm records and for some unknown reason, guitar and violin strings.

The boy approached the counter. Mr Wheeler eyed him with some suspicion - their paths had crossed before.

"Got any guitar strings please?"

"Probably got a few tucked away somewhere. Is it for electric or Spanish?"

"Electric!" he said proudly.

"Oh … and how many might we be needing today?"

The boy momentarily looked confused.

"Oh, whatever's normal", he said.

[more]