Me & my guitar: A love story

'It will take you to strange, interesting places. You will be invited to more parties. You will probably get more sex...' Terence Blacker picked up his first guitar aged nine, a present from his mother. It was a gift that changed his life...

A few years back, the great singer and thinker Willie Nelson offered some guidance to parents. "Mamas," he sang, "Don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys. Don't let them play guitars and drive them old trucks. Let them be doctors and lawyers and such."

Now, Willie is a man who is very rarely wrong in these matters. But here, surely, he is on the wrong track. Although as a writer I'm probably at the doctors-and-lawyers-and-such end of the spectrum, it is my firm belief that mamas should not only let their babies grow up to play guitars - they should encourage them. Sending a child into adulthood, able to play the guitar, is a great and vital gift.

The banjolele that my mother gave when I was about nine changed my life. My brother Philip and I were at a prep school, now mercifully defunct. We started playing three-chord songs - "Sweet Ellie Rhee (So Dear to Me)" was one of our favourites. I rather think Lonnie Donegan's classic "My Old Man's a Dustman" was part of our very limited repertoire.

Later, when I was at public school, my banjolele made way for an acoustic guitar - an Eko. I began to play along to the hits of the time. It was the golden age of guitar instrumentals - The Shadows were in the charts, "Walk Don't Run" by The Ventures was on Radio Luxembourg. My debut number, played haltingly and repeatedly, was "Diamonds" by Jet Harris and Tony Meehan.

Wellington, the school I attended, provided an invaluable stimulant to teenage creativity - profound boredom. I had hours to fill, learning the guitar, harmonising Everly Brothers songs with my friend John Wehner. In the traditional way of school guitarists, we formed a group but I can admit that we were overshadowed by Wellington's rhythm and blues outfit, the brilliantly named Groovediggers, who were fronted by the precocious blues pianist Pete Wingfield, who went on to be a successful musician and actually backed The Everly Brothers. The lead singer, Guy Siner, ended up, rather less musically, playing Lieutenant Gruber in the sitcom 'Allo 'Allo.

I was never a great guitarist, but by the age of 17 I had discovered a great and simple truth. The guitar was a friend, a therapist. Like many teenage boys, I felt as if I didn't quite fit in at school or at home. My Eko became a refuge. Playing it gave me a confidence that I otherwise lacked.

In those days, three chords - four, if you wanted to be flash - would get you through most of the songs you heard on the radio. Gradually, I began to discover that you can express yourself through a guitar. For those who are really good, it is like a conversation, an extension of character. It can be as individual as a fingerprint. Even for the average player, it's the most versatile and friendly - the most forgiving - of instruments, capable of reflecting every mood from rage to sorrow via love.