Last time we went to the Turgid parents' to visit, I recovered my old violin, which I have not played much since I was 16 years old. I was never very good. I only made it to Grade 5, and it was like cats being strangled.
Mrs. Turgid, blinded by love, enjoys hearing my feeble attempts at scratching out a tune. She comes from the Methodist tradition (sing loudly and in tune), whereas I am a joyless, puritanical Scottish athiest.
After a number of decimal places, nobody gives a damn.