Not so very long ago, I bought myself a very beautiful mandolin.
First, I told my friend who is a gourmand that I had bought a mandolin.
“It’s coming from America and I just can’t wait to practise,” I gushed.
“Why would you order one from America?”
“Because the one I really like is there.”
“Do you really need to practise?”
“Well, yes, I’ve never used on before.”
“It’s as easy,” she told me patiently, “as grating carrots.”
“What?” I was bemused. “It’s a musical instrument,” I stated what I thought was the obvious.
“Ohhh!” She said, “I thought you meant a mandolin slicer to slice veges real thin!”
Then I told my uncle who has a very thick Scottish accent and believes that he is the only one who speaks clearly.
“I’ve got a mandolin,” I told him with great enthusiasm.
“What have you got?” he asked.
“A mandolin,” I repeated.
“Yeah, what have you got her?”
“What have you got Amanda Lynn?”
Starting to understand why this instrument is called a “mando” by those who play.