The Unsolved Mysteries of Tiny Tim

I returned from Easter Island in the grip of an obsession.

It is an island of enigmas. Like many people, I was fascinated by the statues... their purpose, their cultural origin, the technology utilised to transport and erect them. And there was the mystery of the origins of the Rapa Nui people themselves. They are probably of Polynesian origin but irrefutable evidence exists on the island of some form of prehistoric intercourse with South America. Then one considers the question of what the maximum population of the islands had been and whether it was accurate to utilise the islands, as some have done, as a dire exemplar of reckless over-exploitation of irreplacable resources. Finally, one turns to the Rongorongo script used to inscribe wooden tablets until the 1860s, after which knowledge of the script's meaning was lost as disease and slavery destroyed the social fabric of the islands. It remains undeciphered to this day.

Obviously, in the light of this complex and fascinating history, it was almost inevitable that I would become obsessed with the ukelele. As I hiked the stormy coasts of the island, striding from one moai to another, one thought and one thought only occupied my every waking hour. I would return to London and, using the information I had painstakingly gathered on the Island; and the unmatched resources of British Academia, I would learn to play the soprano ukelele.

And now a magnificent dream has begun to reach fruition. I have a ukelele: and by GOD, I'm going to use it.