Robbie Burns was wrong! He prayed that some power would give us the gift to see ourselves as others see us.

Who wants to see themselves as others see us? I certainly don’t – and especially after a weekend when I looked into the magic music mirror and did not see the rock chick I imagined!

In fact, what I saw was so middle of the road that it was nothing more than a white line!

This sobering revelation came with the news that Chuck Berry had died.

My first thought, on hearing the news, is that I hope The Evidence, the local band that opened the Maryport Blues Festival he headlined in 2008, have still got all their press cuttings and programmes.

That band was made up of Workington man Dave McDonald, Alex Wilkinson, the then headteacher of Fairfield Junior School, Barry Dickson, from Richmond Hill in Aspatria, and Mike Cunningham, then head of Flimby School.

I remember interviewing them and their disbelief that they were going to appear on the same bill as this rock ’n’ roll legend.

As it turned out, Berry, then aged 81, showed some signs of being a crotchety old man, but that certainly did not detract from the fact he gave a performance that delighted audiences!

But back to the magic mirror.

I didn’t even know who Chuck Berry was when I was growing up.

I had heard of Elvis Presley but didn’t like him one little bit.

When I say I was middle of the road, I have to tell you that my favourite singer was Pat Boone who did do a bit of rock, I guess, but definitely not hard!

My love affair with Elvis only began when he came out of the army, although I now love his earlier stuff.

I watched I Saw The Light at the weekend – a biopic on the life of country star Hank Williams.

He was only 29 when he died of heart failure, which was shocking.

After watching him, I have decided to come out of the closet and admit I like country music.

It was always kind of a no-no when I was growing up. You had to be snobbish about it to remain cool.

The fact that I liked Johnny Cash was somewhat acceptable, but my secret enjoyment of Jim Reeves had to be kept secret.

I loved Johnny Western. He could be considered country and western, but mainly he sang about cowboys and gunslingers and shoot-outs, so that was okay.

I always say I can’t live without music.

I would rather be blind than deaf because if I was blind, I could have talking books and still have my music.

But I would be very embarrassed if someone else had to operate my iPod because then they would discover that loving music and having taste are two completely different things!

Music to me now means memories. Every song on my iPod or on a CD I made for my sisters holds a memory.

The worst songs are from the sing-along albums that used to play at the many parties my parents held or attended.

Kids always seemed to be welcome and we would play outside while the parents partied within.

For me, though, the fascination was always the music – from Green Door, and Ma, He’s Making Eyes At Me to the soundtrack from My Fair Lady.

And most of all I remember the hunt for the little removable centre of a favourite seven inch record. Without it, the record could not be played.

I discovered Chuck Berry late and loved his music.

But I think it is appropriate today to say thank you to all of them, from Chuck to Buddy, to Frank and Dean and Sammy, John, Paul, George and Ringo and, of course, to Elvis.

Thank you for the music.