Having finished two loads of laundry in a row, I start beating a simple rhythm with my knuckles against the two sides of the round door of the washing machine, which strikes me as a nifty little drum. One side is made of glass, the other of plastic. The sound is surprisingly good, too. The pitch is high on the glass side and low on the plastic side. Ta-toom, ta-ta-ta-toom, ta-toom, ta-ta-ta-toom… But I give up after a short while. Sadly, I am far from good enough. The simpler the rhythm, the greater is the skill required. As well as much more besides. The way I started, I would have to be no less than an African. And a talented one at that.