The table is littered with musical detritus. A mute, a folder of music and a trumpet case that presumably contains a trumpet because I can’t see it on its stand. There are also two trumpet mouthpieces and, for what it’s worth, a vuvuzela. I must have bought the latter in a rush of blood sometime because it makes an infernal noise. I nearly forgot there is also an orange pbone which is a plastic trombone.
The pbone is quite a fun instrument. It plays just like a trombone. Not that I can play it, or the trumpet. They aren’t mine. The guitars are mine. One in its case and the other on the stand next to the sax which is also not mine.
We do have a reasonably musical family although my efforts are somewhat pathetic compared to what some of the kids can do. My sister Sue is also a very good musician. Violinist. It comes from a misspent youth playing away at her violin in her bedroom. When I were a lad I learned to play the guitar instead of revising for my exams. The Beatles mostly though I can also play The House of The Rising Sun and one or two others. I’m terrible for remembering chords though I can usually play ok if I have the music in front of me.
It’s a slight regret that I can’t just pick up an instrument and sit in on someone’s jazz jamming session. In the pub maybe. I have a reasonable voice though I sometimes think I’m tone deaf. It annoys me that I can’t just listen to something and tell what the chord or note is. How we all manage to live through our disabilities. We have to although I’m not so sure that not having a very good musical ear ranks as a disability. Not like only having one leg or being blind.
Those of us who are not one legged or blind (other disabilities are available) are very grateful for the fact mind you. The Paralympics in London in 2012 changed all our perceptions in respect of people with physical disabilities. We should use the example of the paralympians as an incentive to look after our own bodies. I’ve had a dodgy foot for the last two weeks which has been hard enough, or at least a nuisance. It’s getting better now which is a relief for everyone concerned. ie me!
Note I didn’t say blessed relief there. Didn’t feel like it. I’m not in to blessings and stuff like that anyway. Smacks too much of a priest laying hands on me. I can sort it out meself thanks of at least I can call the AA. I’m a member. I get my membership as part of my bank account which is quite handy. I get a load of other benefits as well. Travel insurance for example. Used to get free entry to airport lounges but that has finished. I don’t think I flew anywhere in all the years that lounge entry was part of the deal. It doesn’t come free of course. I pay for it but presumably I must think it’s worth it. Never really checked.
I’m not particularly financially minded. Money isn’t a motive although obv we all need money to live on. I seem to spend all of mine. Never been able to save a bean. I’m not really into material goods. I prefer to spend my money on improving the quality of live. A better bottle of wine for example. Nice bread, a decent steak. You know the sort of thing.
I like my steaks rare. Just so’s you know.
3rd Law Part 38 here
3rd Law Part 40 here
[…] 3rd Law Part 39 here […]
Pingback by 3rd Law Part 38 - tennis balls and chocolate coloured paint | where art collides — June 9, 2013 @ 7:39 pm
[…] 3rd Law Part 39 here […]
Pingback by 3rd Law Part 40 - death by falling piano | where art collides — June 11, 2013 @ 6:59 pm