Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, life can conspire against you.
In this instance, I’m talking about Himself’s efforts to play the cornet, something he has managed with a good deal of success in the past.
Imagine then, how devastated you would be if when you picked up the instrument, your mouth dried up and felt as if it was full of sand. And when you tried to play, you kept fluffing notes, when before your notes were perfectly in tune. The intense disappointment, for having given up sailing, the major love of your life, and fallen in love with another fickle nymph called Jazz, this one is eluding you too?
Give him his due, if there’s a problem he will go all out to try and fix it. He’s spent hours of research on the matter and thought it might be a yeast allergy. So for the last 3 weeks he’s eliminated all yeast from his diet.
Before last week’s rehearsal he really felt better, but was horrified and dismayed when the practice was no better. After all that effort! And the gig is in August and he has to be in tip top condition by then which means months of practice.
‘So what is it exactly?’ I asked. ‘Do you feel like this when you practice at the workshop?’
‘No, he said. ‘No, the dry mouth started just before we started rehearsing.’
‘Perhaps it’s nerves,’ I said.
He looked at me askance. ‘I’ve never had nerves before, Pop,’ he said, as if nerves were a form of STD.
Since then he’s done hours more research and found that yes, it might be nerves. The research also revealed that betablockers can help, if taken for a short time only. So he went to the docs who said that actually he’d helped an opera singer for the same thing and they worked for her.
He came back delighted clutching his prescription. ‘I should be all right for this week’s rehearsal, Pop,’ he said. And his face fell. ‘I hope,’ he added.
Later on we were eating our meal – mince in his case – and what happened? The crown on his front tooth dropped out.
For those of you that don’t, like me, play a wind instrument, this means you’re unable to play because the blow is all wrong (to use layman’s terms).
Thankfully, he’s at the dentist now having it repaired. Let’s just hope nothing else goes wrong…
Showing posts with label cornets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label cornets. Show all posts
Wednesday, 21 May 2008
Monday, 25 February 2008
Of Coughs and Cornets
What is it with men and coughs? Last time he had one, two years ago, it developed into a really bad lung infection which meant X rays and all that. It turned out he has pulmonary fibrosis. Not too badly, but bad enough for the consultant to be concerned about his lungs.
At the time I looked it up on the internet and read: This is a terminal disease. You can imagine how I felt. Thankfully it’s not that bad, but beware of the internet for matters medical.
Anyway, last week he had a cough for four days and by Friday had coughed all day and night. Would he go to the doctor? Would he hell. However, having endured the coughing all week, and with a friend coming for the weekend, I told him that he was going to get cough mixture on the way back from walking the dogs Or Else.
“It’s not fair on Pam or me, or you,” I said, then delivered my trump card. “If you’re not careful, you won’t be able to play in the band on Sunday.”
That did it. I got the cough mixture for him and by that evening the cough had almost gone.
‘That cough mixture’s worked well, hasn’t it?’ I said.
‘Don’t be silly, Pop,’ came the quick reply. ‘I told you it was getting better anyway.’
Silly me.
However, the gig last night went really well. He had a brilliant time, was well applauded and is all fired up about it now.
Roll on the band eh?
At the time I looked it up on the internet and read: This is a terminal disease. You can imagine how I felt. Thankfully it’s not that bad, but beware of the internet for matters medical.
Anyway, last week he had a cough for four days and by Friday had coughed all day and night. Would he go to the doctor? Would he hell. However, having endured the coughing all week, and with a friend coming for the weekend, I told him that he was going to get cough mixture on the way back from walking the dogs Or Else.
“It’s not fair on Pam or me, or you,” I said, then delivered my trump card. “If you’re not careful, you won’t be able to play in the band on Sunday.”
That did it. I got the cough mixture for him and by that evening the cough had almost gone.
‘That cough mixture’s worked well, hasn’t it?’ I said.
‘Don’t be silly, Pop,’ came the quick reply. ‘I told you it was getting better anyway.’
Silly me.
However, the gig last night went really well. He had a brilliant time, was well applauded and is all fired up about it now.
Roll on the band eh?
Friday, 15 February 2008
Cornets and Frivolity
Today The Other cornet arrives.
Yes, he bought it at nine twenty on Wednesday evening. I returned from rehearsals for Pajama Game to find a flushed and highly emotive husband crouched over a hot laptop, a glass of wine by his side (by no means the first).
‘Look, Pop!’ he said, and proceeded to tell me, in great detail, the ins and outs of this particular purchase. I’m afraid my interest lagged a little, as he’d told me most of it several times that day.
But at least yesterday I managed to sell the cornet that wouldn’t sell on ebay. Oh, the power of forums. (What’s the plural of forum? Forae? It doesn’t sound quite right.) Anyway, I advertised this cornet that no one wanted and blow me down, a couple from Porthleven came at lunchtime and bought it for their grandson. As he’s five I felt this was a bit optimistic, but never mind. It needed to go.
So when this new one arrives Himself will have a mere three cornets rather than four, which is an improvement of a kind I suppose.
Unfortunately one of the lenses fell out of his only pair of distance glasses yesterday so most of the profits have been spent on buying two pairs of glasses. He rather foolishly let slip that the optician had told him he should be wearing glasses all the time, so I insisted that he had a spare pair. So two pairs (with OAP discount) was £50, we both put £20 in the Frivolity Box and – er – the rest will go on housekeeping.
No comment.
I should explain about the Frivolity Box. This is a heart shaped tin that once held something smelly I was given for Christmas. A few years ago, my dear Sister In Law came to stay, and left some money for us to go out to lunch after she’d gone. Rather than put it in the housekeeping, where it would be swallowed up on toilet paper and soap, we put it aside and saved it for when we felt like a treat.
So now we try and have something in the tin for if we want a takeaway or go out for a meal. The tin’s got down to about three quid which doesn’t allow a lot of frivolous behaviour, so now it’s bulging with nearly fifty quid which means we can do something for my birthday.
In the meantime, Himself said cheerfully, “Well, I can’t buy any more cornets, Pop. I’ve run out of money.”
Since when has that ever stopped him?
Yes, he bought it at nine twenty on Wednesday evening. I returned from rehearsals for Pajama Game to find a flushed and highly emotive husband crouched over a hot laptop, a glass of wine by his side (by no means the first).
‘Look, Pop!’ he said, and proceeded to tell me, in great detail, the ins and outs of this particular purchase. I’m afraid my interest lagged a little, as he’d told me most of it several times that day.
But at least yesterday I managed to sell the cornet that wouldn’t sell on ebay. Oh, the power of forums. (What’s the plural of forum? Forae? It doesn’t sound quite right.) Anyway, I advertised this cornet that no one wanted and blow me down, a couple from Porthleven came at lunchtime and bought it for their grandson. As he’s five I felt this was a bit optimistic, but never mind. It needed to go.
So when this new one arrives Himself will have a mere three cornets rather than four, which is an improvement of a kind I suppose.
Unfortunately one of the lenses fell out of his only pair of distance glasses yesterday so most of the profits have been spent on buying two pairs of glasses. He rather foolishly let slip that the optician had told him he should be wearing glasses all the time, so I insisted that he had a spare pair. So two pairs (with OAP discount) was £50, we both put £20 in the Frivolity Box and – er – the rest will go on housekeeping.
No comment.
I should explain about the Frivolity Box. This is a heart shaped tin that once held something smelly I was given for Christmas. A few years ago, my dear Sister In Law came to stay, and left some money for us to go out to lunch after she’d gone. Rather than put it in the housekeeping, where it would be swallowed up on toilet paper and soap, we put it aside and saved it for when we felt like a treat.
So now we try and have something in the tin for if we want a takeaway or go out for a meal. The tin’s got down to about three quid which doesn’t allow a lot of frivolous behaviour, so now it’s bulging with nearly fifty quid which means we can do something for my birthday.
In the meantime, Himself said cheerfully, “Well, I can’t buy any more cornets, Pop. I’ve run out of money.”
Since when has that ever stopped him?
Tuesday, 12 February 2008
Oh no, not another....
In haste as I am having a quick breather before meeting a deadline. (Yes, RT, I will meet it!)
I caught Himself pounding away on the laptop at seven this morning. This can only mean one thing…yes, you’ve got it.
‘You’re not looking at another cornet, are you?’ I said in tones that would have daunted a lesser male.
Nervous giggle. ‘Well, Pop I couldn’t turn it down. It’s only thirty five quid including postage.’
‘I thought you said you weren’t getting another cornet.’
He frowned and sipped his now cold tea. ‘Well, no, Pop but this one’s different.’ He tried another tack; anything to melt his wife’s cold heart. ‘It’s like a stray dog, darling. I couldn’t say no.’
'We'll have to move house,' I said. 'We haven't got any room for any more cornets.' I despaired and went off to make toast. He came scurrying down the hall like the forementioned stray. ‘I won’t buy any more, Pop. Promise.’
‘You said that before.’ Mountains wouldn’t move me.
‘I could cancel my Paypal account,’ he added in desperation. ‘That’d stymie me.’
But somehow I don’t know that it would.
I caught Himself pounding away on the laptop at seven this morning. This can only mean one thing…yes, you’ve got it.
‘You’re not looking at another cornet, are you?’ I said in tones that would have daunted a lesser male.
Nervous giggle. ‘Well, Pop I couldn’t turn it down. It’s only thirty five quid including postage.’
‘I thought you said you weren’t getting another cornet.’
He frowned and sipped his now cold tea. ‘Well, no, Pop but this one’s different.’ He tried another tack; anything to melt his wife’s cold heart. ‘It’s like a stray dog, darling. I couldn’t say no.’
'We'll have to move house,' I said. 'We haven't got any room for any more cornets.' I despaired and went off to make toast. He came scurrying down the hall like the forementioned stray. ‘I won’t buy any more, Pop. Promise.’
‘You said that before.’ Mountains wouldn’t move me.
‘I could cancel my Paypal account,’ he added in desperation. ‘That’d stymie me.’
But somehow I don’t know that it would.
Wednesday, 2 January 2008
The cornet box
As you can see, the cornet box that Himself was making over the last week is finally finished and looks wonderful. He has textured it so it doesn’t look new, spent ages fitting the upholstery – with polystyrene and foam padding – and used the fittings off the old box to fit onto the new, including the Boosey name tag which is now sitting proudly on top.
Altogether a job to be proud of. It looks so good that I suggested he should take up making boxes full time. This suggestion was not met with the enthusiasm I felt it deserved.
The other night the phone rang and a German voice asked to speak to Himself. It turned out to be the fellow that he sold the (last) cornet to.
I watched Himself’s face as he chatted and smiled, then silence. I heard the cornet being played down the phone. His old cornet. I smiled.
When the music stopped, Himself said to the German, ‘That was wonderful. So you’re pleased? Good.’ Pause. ‘No it hasn’t arrived yet.’ Pause. ‘I’ll let you know when it does.’
My hackles went up. ‘What hasn’t arrived yet?’ I said, when he put the phone down. I could sniff another cornet disaster.
Himself looked up, his mind evidently on jazz. ‘He’s sending me a tape, Pop. This fellow plays in seven different bands and he’s sending me a tape of his band playing.’ He grinned, looking aged about six. ‘The cornet’s just arrived, and he’s delighted.’
So while Himself might not have made any money on the deal, it looks like he’s made a new friend.
Tuesday, 18 December 2007
Best blogging buddies
I have been awarded this by wakeupandsmellthecoffee, for which much thanks. I only arrived in blogland in May this year and I have now made a new bunch of friends all over the world. Rather than pick seven of you, I’d like to pass it to you all. You deserve it!
Life here in Falmouth is freezing as we are in the teeth of an easterly gale which has been raging for the last three days and promises to continue for another three. This means that every time I go out of the house, I feel as if someone has thrown a bucket of icy water over me. It trickles down my back with determination, freezing my hands, feet, nose, ears, anything it can get hold of. It also sucks any warmth out of the house so even when I get in, despite the central heating being on for hours, it’s still cold.
And in case you’re wondering, if it wasn’t for this hyperactive dog, I wouldn’t go out…
However, not to be deterred by bad weather, Himself has gone off to the workshop for the third day in a row to make a box for the new love in his life. The one that it arrived in isn’t as lovely as he thought it was, and as he can’t find anything suitable, he decided to make one.
Four trips to Trago later, he has plywood, velvet and several cans of spray paint. He’s taken all the fixtures off the old case, including an old Boosey sticker (before it became Boosey & Hawkes) and has now assembled the box which looks very fine.
(Well, it looks like a box, to be honest, but I had to make the appropriate noises.)
Now all it needs is some padding and it’s ready for its red velvet lining. Fit for a queen, you might say.
Lucky thing, eh? In my next life I’m coming back as a cornet.
Friday, 14 December 2007
More Cornets
Himself has just heard that the cornet he sold a few weeks ago has now turned up in Uganda. He got an email from the buyer saying how pleased he was, and where he was. So let’s hope some little Ugandan boy is learning the play the cornet. What a story that would be…..
Last night I met my dear mate Carole for a drink – she’s partly living in Exeter these days so we don’t get to meet too often and had a lot to catch up on.
There’s something very special about good friends. It doesn’t matter when you last met, or what you’ve been doing since. Once you’ve met up again, the hours just fly by, as they did last night.
But I digress.
When I got back, Himself was in the kitchen, misty eyed and playing the cornet. ‘This is it, Pop,’ he said. ‘This is just such a magic cornet. I’m in love.’
‘Good, darling,’ I said with a certain amount of déjà vu. ‘I’m really glad.’
‘No, honestly Pop. This is just perfect – the pitch is wonderful. Even Pete said so (his brother).’
(This phrase was repeated at various times over the evening. I forget how many times.)
‘It’s taken a lot of time and expense to find the right instrument, but now I have, I can’t tell you how pleased I am.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Rather like finding the right woman, darling.’ I paused, realising one big difference. ‘Except, of course, that the women were cheaper.’
‘Oh,’ he said. You could see him thinking this one through. ‘That’s a bit harsh, Pop.’
‘Well, you didn’t pay £45 for me, did you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No, that’s very true.’ And he smiled.
Last night I met my dear mate Carole for a drink – she’s partly living in Exeter these days so we don’t get to meet too often and had a lot to catch up on.
There’s something very special about good friends. It doesn’t matter when you last met, or what you’ve been doing since. Once you’ve met up again, the hours just fly by, as they did last night.
But I digress.
When I got back, Himself was in the kitchen, misty eyed and playing the cornet. ‘This is it, Pop,’ he said. ‘This is just such a magic cornet. I’m in love.’
‘Good, darling,’ I said with a certain amount of déjà vu. ‘I’m really glad.’
‘No, honestly Pop. This is just perfect – the pitch is wonderful. Even Pete said so (his brother).’
(This phrase was repeated at various times over the evening. I forget how many times.)
‘It’s taken a lot of time and expense to find the right instrument, but now I have, I can’t tell you how pleased I am.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Rather like finding the right woman, darling.’ I paused, realising one big difference. ‘Except, of course, that the women were cheaper.’
‘Oh,’ he said. You could see him thinking this one through. ‘That’s a bit harsh, Pop.’
‘Well, you didn’t pay £45 for me, did you?’
‘No,’ he said. ‘No, that’s very true.’ And he smiled.
Thursday, 13 December 2007
Not Another One..
Hold this thought:
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is
exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different
kinds of good weather.
John Ruskin, author, art critic, and social reformer (1819-1900).
Yesterday the latest cornet arrived. Himself has been in a fervour of anticipation, pacing up and down the flat all yesterday, insisting that one of us was at home in case it arrived. He even went up to the post office on the corner to ask how long it would take, given the Christmas post.
Of course it arrived yesterday morning when we were out at a hospital appointment, but he was able to go up to the sorting office and collect it.
The new cornet is in fact an old, treasured cornet that has been playing in brass bands since the 1930s. It looks rather tarnished to me, like someone who’s stayed up all night. But I would never dare say so.
The case was shabby which he has now stripped with a hot air gun (why?) to reveal battered black leather.
He spent all afternoon cleaning it, polishing it and playing it (I’m learning to work while he practises). And he’s now happy.
“This is THE ONE, Pop.”
Now where have I heard that before?
Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces us up, snow is
exhilarating; there is really no such thing as bad weather, only different
kinds of good weather.
John Ruskin, author, art critic, and social reformer (1819-1900).
Yesterday the latest cornet arrived. Himself has been in a fervour of anticipation, pacing up and down the flat all yesterday, insisting that one of us was at home in case it arrived. He even went up to the post office on the corner to ask how long it would take, given the Christmas post.
Of course it arrived yesterday morning when we were out at a hospital appointment, but he was able to go up to the sorting office and collect it.
The new cornet is in fact an old, treasured cornet that has been playing in brass bands since the 1930s. It looks rather tarnished to me, like someone who’s stayed up all night. But I would never dare say so.
The case was shabby which he has now stripped with a hot air gun (why?) to reveal battered black leather.
He spent all afternoon cleaning it, polishing it and playing it (I’m learning to work while he practises). And he’s now happy.
“This is THE ONE, Pop.”
Now where have I heard that before?
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Obsessions and Elizabeth I
This cornet business is becoming something of an obsession and believe me we can neither afford one nor have we got room, in a one bedroom flat, to store musical instruments.
As I write, Himself is crouched over his laptop, poring over ebay (oh no), though he assures me that he’s actually going to sell one of the cornets. The one he’s fallen out with, that he bought last month. Oh fickle man. I won’t hold my breath until I see it despatched, though. I know what he’s like.
He’s been so excited over the most recent arrival in the cornet family that he’s completely switched off from normal life. He forgot to put petrol in the car on Saturday so on Sunday we drove round for an hour with it on Very Empty. Then he forgot to take the bottles to the bottle bank (which he drove straight past). He forgot to bring the newspaper back from the workshop, and forgot to make two important phone calls. This morning he forgot to put the rubbish bins out.
When he's home, he spends the entire time either playing the cornet, or he sits and gazes at it with starry eyes, stroking it. Every now and then he'll take both from their boxes and admire them, side by side. Let's hope this honeymoon period is over soon. For my sake as well as our neighbours who have to endure increasing hours of cornet practice (sorry RT).
On another note, we had a girls night out last night and met for a few drinks before going to see the latest film about Elizabeth I last night. There were some fairly gruesome scenes, but Cate Blanchett never disappoints, and neither did the cast list. We were riveted. Despite the fact that she was supposed to be in her fifties at the time and looked a lot younger, she was well portrayed I thought. A sympathetic mixture of steely ambition and thwarted desire; someone who needed to be loved and never had the chance.
I also noticed that she has a very masculine profile – that very long nose and wide mouth. Very apt given the fact that she was playing one of the most powerful women in the world at that time.
If it's on near you, I thoroughly recommend it.
As I write, Himself is crouched over his laptop, poring over ebay (oh no), though he assures me that he’s actually going to sell one of the cornets. The one he’s fallen out with, that he bought last month. Oh fickle man. I won’t hold my breath until I see it despatched, though. I know what he’s like.
He’s been so excited over the most recent arrival in the cornet family that he’s completely switched off from normal life. He forgot to put petrol in the car on Saturday so on Sunday we drove round for an hour with it on Very Empty. Then he forgot to take the bottles to the bottle bank (which he drove straight past). He forgot to bring the newspaper back from the workshop, and forgot to make two important phone calls. This morning he forgot to put the rubbish bins out.
When he's home, he spends the entire time either playing the cornet, or he sits and gazes at it with starry eyes, stroking it. Every now and then he'll take both from their boxes and admire them, side by side. Let's hope this honeymoon period is over soon. For my sake as well as our neighbours who have to endure increasing hours of cornet practice (sorry RT).
On another note, we had a girls night out last night and met for a few drinks before going to see the latest film about Elizabeth I last night. There were some fairly gruesome scenes, but Cate Blanchett never disappoints, and neither did the cast list. We were riveted. Despite the fact that she was supposed to be in her fifties at the time and looked a lot younger, she was well portrayed I thought. A sympathetic mixture of steely ambition and thwarted desire; someone who needed to be loved and never had the chance.
I also noticed that she has a very masculine profile – that very long nose and wide mouth. Very apt given the fact that she was playing one of the most powerful women in the world at that time.
If it's on near you, I thoroughly recommend it.
Monday, 26 November 2007
He's In Love (and so is Mum)
8.15 on Saturday morning, the doorbell rang. Himself went to open the door and emerged, beaming, with a huge cardboard box.
Another cornet.
He fell in love with this one on ebay last week, bid for it and got it for a knockdown price of sixty five quid (plus postage).
‘What’s the matter with the other one?’ I said.
‘Nothing, Pop, but every musician has two instruments.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, what if someone stands on it or something?’
Not being in the habit of standing on musical instruments, I hadn’t thought of that.
Ever since he sent the cheque off he’s been in a fever of suspense, saying, ‘How long does it take for a cheque to clear?’ and ‘I wonder how he’s sent it – do you think I might get it this week? Or next week. Perhaps Monday – or Tuesday.’ And so on.
So when it arrived this morning, he was very much the proud father. ‘Oh, look, Pop,’ he said, stroking it lovingly. ‘I can’t tell you how wonderful this is.’ And then, ‘This is beautiful Pop – look.’ This refrain was repeated often during Saturday and the other cornet has been cast aside for the moment.
Oh, fickle men.
On the other hand, my mum came to stay for the weekend and we gave her the laptop. I’d already been told by my youngest brother that she was very apprehensive, and I thought OH NO. But Himself gave her some lessons and by the time she left yesterday, she had sent her first email and was positively skittish about it. She’s going to get set up at home next week (very busy social life this week) and is going to go to the library for some lessons, and when I suggested she bring the laptop down for Christmas, she said, ‘What a good idea! I can only thank you for such a generous gift. I should have done this years ago.’
So, fingers crossed…..
Another cornet.
He fell in love with this one on ebay last week, bid for it and got it for a knockdown price of sixty five quid (plus postage).
‘What’s the matter with the other one?’ I said.
‘Nothing, Pop, but every musician has two instruments.’
‘Why?’
‘Well, what if someone stands on it or something?’
Not being in the habit of standing on musical instruments, I hadn’t thought of that.
Ever since he sent the cheque off he’s been in a fever of suspense, saying, ‘How long does it take for a cheque to clear?’ and ‘I wonder how he’s sent it – do you think I might get it this week? Or next week. Perhaps Monday – or Tuesday.’ And so on.
So when it arrived this morning, he was very much the proud father. ‘Oh, look, Pop,’ he said, stroking it lovingly. ‘I can’t tell you how wonderful this is.’ And then, ‘This is beautiful Pop – look.’ This refrain was repeated often during Saturday and the other cornet has been cast aside for the moment.
Oh, fickle men.
On the other hand, my mum came to stay for the weekend and we gave her the laptop. I’d already been told by my youngest brother that she was very apprehensive, and I thought OH NO. But Himself gave her some lessons and by the time she left yesterday, she had sent her first email and was positively skittish about it. She’s going to get set up at home next week (very busy social life this week) and is going to go to the library for some lessons, and when I suggested she bring the laptop down for Christmas, she said, ‘What a good idea! I can only thank you for such a generous gift. I should have done this years ago.’
So, fingers crossed…..
Thursday, 22 November 2007
A Musical Family
I’m exhausted this morning, recovering from a musical soiree. That’s a slightly grand description of last night, but it was a very late night for us.
I started off with rehearsals for Pajama Game where we sang more numbers and learnt the steps to Seven and a Half Cents. The new choreographer is tiny, with huge eyes and long un-mascara-d eyes, and is young enough to be my granddaughter (well, nearly). But she has patience and understanding which makes her a great teacher. Just as well – trying to teach thirty lumbering adults steps to a number in a small room is not easy.
But I got a real buzz from it. Being in at the beginning of a production is very exciting – like starting a novel, it’s a real adventure, full of unknowns. New people, a new plot, new songs, new moves and who knows who will play whom?
Auditions are all day on Sunday so as you can imagine, the atmosphere was electric. Everyone eyeing each other up, while being nice and smiley, thinking, “I want that part. I want it so much that – or should I go for Babe? Or Mabel. Perhaps I’ll go for them all.”
Given my dubious health this year I’ve opted to go for the chorus which will be taxing and time consuming enough, but that means I don’t have to attend auditions – though I might call in and see how it’s going.
Anyway, after that I drove a friend home then went back down to town where Himself was sitting in with a jazz band for the first time in nine years. He was very nervous but a friend had rung that morning to say her husband was also sitting in and would Himself come and join them, so it made that first time a bit easier.
In fact the band was run by someone he knows and it was her father and mother who came along to sit in – Bob is a wonderful sax player and Ruth sings with a raunchy blues voice. A wonderfully talented pair, and their daughter led the band playing guitar (she also plays the bull fiddle) so they’re a very musical family.
Himself played several numbers in the second half and excelled himself. He even played a solo which he’d refused to do, thinking he wasn’t good enough. When he and Bob played, the influx of students who’d suddenly materialised started stamping and shouting, whistling and clapping. Outside people peered in through the windows to see who was playing. The bored youngsters serving in the chippy opposite stood up and started jiving behind the counter.
Boy, was I proud.
Wednesday, 17 October 2007
Eccentric Accessories
"The most futile thing in this world is any attempt, perhaps, at exact
definition of character. All individuals are a bundle of contradictions --
none more so than the most capable."
Theodore Dreiser, author (1871-1945)
Thank you, Shelagh, for that apt quote, particularly as it fits in perfectly with your little brother -
Himself is now into Accessories – of the jazz kind of course.
‘I need a bag to put my trumpet in,’ he declared (this was several instruments ago, if you’ll pardon the expression) and it didn’t have a case, and despite the fact that he was a long way from playing in public, he had to buy a bag - from the market in Falmouth.
That was too small so he bought another one from Trago (cheap store here in South West). That was also the wrong shape and he saw this flight bag in Tesco and said, ‘this is just what I want, Pop’. Which was what he’d said about the other two.
Then, in search of perfection, he sold that trumpet and bought another cornet (you can see a pattern emerging here) and now this cornet has a case that came with it. But instead of not using the new flight bag, which he’s obviously rather taken with, he takes that down to the jazz sessions. Inside it, on Sunday, was a small notepad and biro for making notes about any numbers he didn’t know, and – a cheese sandwich. Very professional.
His accessories cause me a certain amount of amusement, not least the latest.
‘Look,’ he said, showing me tiny address book he’d just bought. (This is also destined for The Flight Bag). ‘It’s got all the musicians’ numbers that I need.’
He opened it at a page with my mother’s phone number on which slightly mystified me. Is my mother a mean trombonist, unknown to her children? Does she scurry from the wilds of Devon down to darkest Cornwall, don dark glasses and smoke a pipe and become a tromboning jazz mystery?
‘Why have you got Mum’s number?’ I said, just to clarify things.
‘Because I can never remember it, and I might want to ring her and tell her something,’ he said. I can’t see that happening, but it was a good answer.
As you can see, he is Dead Keen about jazz now and the phone is hot with arrangements for rehearsal sessions, making a practice tape, the next jazz session. But with music there are always problems, the latest one being the wrong mouthpiece.
While I am always keen to encourage his musical talents, sometimes it gets a bit much. Last night, when I was trying to read, he was lying in bed playing both mouthpieces. The ones belonging to the cornet, I hasten to add.
Fancy a house swap, anyone?
definition of character. All individuals are a bundle of contradictions --
none more so than the most capable."
Theodore Dreiser, author (1871-1945)
Thank you, Shelagh, for that apt quote, particularly as it fits in perfectly with your little brother -
Himself is now into Accessories – of the jazz kind of course.
‘I need a bag to put my trumpet in,’ he declared (this was several instruments ago, if you’ll pardon the expression) and it didn’t have a case, and despite the fact that he was a long way from playing in public, he had to buy a bag - from the market in Falmouth.
That was too small so he bought another one from Trago (cheap store here in South West). That was also the wrong shape and he saw this flight bag in Tesco and said, ‘this is just what I want, Pop’. Which was what he’d said about the other two.
Then, in search of perfection, he sold that trumpet and bought another cornet (you can see a pattern emerging here) and now this cornet has a case that came with it. But instead of not using the new flight bag, which he’s obviously rather taken with, he takes that down to the jazz sessions. Inside it, on Sunday, was a small notepad and biro for making notes about any numbers he didn’t know, and – a cheese sandwich. Very professional.
His accessories cause me a certain amount of amusement, not least the latest.
‘Look,’ he said, showing me tiny address book he’d just bought. (This is also destined for The Flight Bag). ‘It’s got all the musicians’ numbers that I need.’
He opened it at a page with my mother’s phone number on which slightly mystified me. Is my mother a mean trombonist, unknown to her children? Does she scurry from the wilds of Devon down to darkest Cornwall, don dark glasses and smoke a pipe and become a tromboning jazz mystery?
‘Why have you got Mum’s number?’ I said, just to clarify things.
‘Because I can never remember it, and I might want to ring her and tell her something,’ he said. I can’t see that happening, but it was a good answer.
As you can see, he is Dead Keen about jazz now and the phone is hot with arrangements for rehearsal sessions, making a practice tape, the next jazz session. But with music there are always problems, the latest one being the wrong mouthpiece.
While I am always keen to encourage his musical talents, sometimes it gets a bit much. Last night, when I was trying to read, he was lying in bed playing both mouthpieces. The ones belonging to the cornet, I hasten to add.
Fancy a house swap, anyone?
Thursday, 6 September 2007
Back to normal?
A short post today as I’m off working on the Van Gogh (cruise ship) in a minute.
Bussie deigns to join us on infrequent occasions to tuck into liver served on a china dish, but departs before I can indulge in anything slushy like Conversation or Stroking. He is back to his role as Supreme Cat – not to be disturbed. We are, after all, merely servants.
Life back to normal, then.
Himself has finally decided to sell one of his cornets and the trumpet on ebay. I thought that the instruments would continue to gather dust in the Flowerpot museum forever, purely because he can’t bear to sell them. But nothing like a few bills coming in to force the issue.
He’s asked a friend of mine to sell them for him as she has an ebay account and has acted as agent for him before.
‘I was going to set up an ebay account,’ he told her. ‘But then I thought, why? I won’t sell anything else. And it would mean setting up a Penpal account as well.’
‘Penpal?’ she said, giggling.
You can understand why he’s never been able to sell anything on ebay.
He was busy sending her an email this morning, but to the wrong address, so I told her the new one.
‘…. @hotmail.com,’ he said, typing (with two fingers) as he spoke. ‘I wonder if she has hot knickers?’
Yes, definitely life back to normal.
Bussie deigns to join us on infrequent occasions to tuck into liver served on a china dish, but departs before I can indulge in anything slushy like Conversation or Stroking. He is back to his role as Supreme Cat – not to be disturbed. We are, after all, merely servants.
Life back to normal, then.
Himself has finally decided to sell one of his cornets and the trumpet on ebay. I thought that the instruments would continue to gather dust in the Flowerpot museum forever, purely because he can’t bear to sell them. But nothing like a few bills coming in to force the issue.
He’s asked a friend of mine to sell them for him as she has an ebay account and has acted as agent for him before.
‘I was going to set up an ebay account,’ he told her. ‘But then I thought, why? I won’t sell anything else. And it would mean setting up a Penpal account as well.’
‘Penpal?’ she said, giggling.
You can understand why he’s never been able to sell anything on ebay.
He was busy sending her an email this morning, but to the wrong address, so I told her the new one.
‘…. @hotmail.com,’ he said, typing (with two fingers) as he spoke. ‘I wonder if she has hot knickers?’
Yes, definitely life back to normal.
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