“Only a little misunderstanding,” he said. “They thought you said the harp.”

 From Trying to Please by John Julius Norwich.  Page 153.

But the Foreign Office remained my first choice. Besides, several of my friends had applied at the same time, largely because—so long as one left the university with a creditable degree—there was no special examination to cram for.

This was replaced, however, by a rather terrifying interview. I was shown into a large room somewhere in Burlington Gardens and found myself confronted by a panel of a dozen distinguished elderly gentlemen. One only did I know: Ashley Clarke, who had been Minister in Paris under my father and was soon to be appointed Ambassador in Rome. They asked me a number of questions about why I wanted to join the Foreign Service, which I answered as best I could. Then one of them said, “Suppose you were posted to somewhere very remote, perhaps with no other diplomatic colleagues; how would you keep yourself occupied in your spare time?” I replied that I loved music and that I was sure that would keep me going. “Ah,” he said, “do you play any instruments?” “Yes,” I said, “the piano and the guitar.” Suddenly there was consternation; they all started muttering to each other. (Rock groups, I should explain, had not in those days been invented; guitars, if seen at all, were almost invariably of the Spanish variety.) I was conscious of having put a foot disastrously wrong, and was still wondering how when I saw Ashley lean forward and say in a reassuring manner: “He said the guitar.” There was a corporate sigh of relief and the interview went on. Some time later when I next saw Ashley I asked him what had happened. “Only a little  misunderstanding,” he said. “They thought you said the harp.”