I turned 40 last year, and the most interesting gift I got was a second-hand Kay "Star*ter" stratocaster knock-off left on my doorstep by some friends. My wife and I were already in bed when they rang the doorbell and sped off, and she started laughing as soon as we heard it.

"Who was that?" I asked.

"Go look," she responded, with equalparts amusement and resignation.

I had been casually mentioning that I wanted to take up the guitar to various people over the last year, and one of the couples we hang out with took me seriously. "Put up or shut up," they were saying. And "happy birthday." (They had checked with my wife beforehand to make sure they wouldn't cause a divorce.)

For my long suffering wife, this potential hobby was joining a very crowded field: British cars, windsor chair building, woodworking, gardening, writing. I wasn't around as it was, and now I'd be abusing her with tortured chords and scales when I was. For better or worse, indeed.

It had been less than 4 years since I gave away my Squire strat (purchased on my 36th) after convincing myself I was hopeless. And 10 years since I'd sold my Applause shallow-bodied acoustic for the same reason. No doubt she already had the e-Bay ad prepared.

But something seems to be different this time. 8 months on and I'm still practicing nightly. And still encouraged. And enjoying it! I've been trying to learn to play an instrument since grade school - will this third time with the guitar be the charm? I'll keep you posted...