Describe something you saved money to buy

I want to talk about an electric guitar which I saved money to buy when I was sixteen. It was a second-hand red guitar, and I bought it with a small amplifier from a music shop in the centre of Recife.

I wanted it because I was learning guitar with my uncle's old guitar, but it was very old and had nylon strings, so it was impossible to play rock music on it. At that time my friends was starting a band at school and they needed a guitarist, so it was my big chance.

My parents said they cannot pay for it, so I decided to earn the money myself. I gave maths lessons to the children of our neighbours, and also I made brigadeiros, they are small chocolate sweets, and sold them at school. I kept all the money into an old coffee tin under my bed. It took me about ten months, and every time I passed the shop I was worried someone will buy it.

When I finally bought it, I was so nervous to give all those notes to the shop owner. At home I plugged it and played my first chord very loudly, and my mother knocked on the wall. I felt very proud, because I earned every coin myself, and I think this is why I still take care of it until now.

Something I saved up for was my first electric guitar. It was a second-hand red one with a little practice amp thrown in, from a music shop in the old centre of Recife, and I bought it when I was sixteen.

I'd been learning on my uncle's old acoustic, which had nylon strings and was completely the wrong instrument for the kind of music I wanted to play. Then a couple of friends decided to form a rock band at school and asked if I'd be their guitarist, so suddenly an electric guitar wasn't just something I fancied; it felt essential.

My parents made it clear they couldn't afford it, so I set about raising the money myself. I tutored a few neighbours' kids in maths, and on top of that I made trays of brigadeiros, which are little chocolate truffles, and sold them at break time. Everything went into an old coffee tin under my bed. All in all, it took me about ten months, and the whole time I was terrified somebody else would snap the guitar up before I'd got enough.

The day I finally bought it, I remember counting out a huge pile of crumpled notes on the counter while the owner tried not to laugh. When I got home, I plugged it in, turned the amp right up, and my mum banged on the wall straight away. I was incredible proud, because I'd paid for every bit of it myself, and to be honest I think that's why I've looked after it so carefully ever since.

The thing I saved up for longest was a second-hand electric guitar, a battered red one that came with a tiny practice amp, from a cramped little music shop in the old centre of Recife. I was sixteen, and I can still picture it hanging in the window.

At the time I'd been teaching myself on my uncle's ancient nylon-string acoustic, which was hopeless for anything louder than a lullaby. Then two friends of mine announced they were forming a band and needed a guitarist, and from that moment the red guitar stopped being a daydream and became a mission.

My parents were upfront that it was beyond our budget, so I had to fund it myself. I tutored the neighbours' children in maths three afternoons a week, and I went into business making brigadeiros, those little Brazilian chocolate truffles, which I sold at break for a modest profit. Every coin went into an old coffee tin under my bed. It took ten months in all, and I made a slightly obsessive detour past that shop window most weeks, convinced someone would beat me to it.

When the day finally came, I tipped what felt like a mountain of grubby notes onto the counter, and the owner very kindly pretended that was a normal way to pay. That evening I plugged it in, hit my first chord at full volume, and my mother immediately hammered on the wall. What I felt was a sort of fierce pride, because nobody had handed it to me. I think that's exactly why, a decade later, it's still the one thing I'd grab in a fire.