I woke up far too early today to take mum to the hospital. When we got there the appointment had been changed-
“Very sorry, your doctor should have told you.”
No ####, Sherlock.
We drove home afterwards and, as I swung my legs out of the car, the sit-adjustment switch panel fell out.
Yesterday I was attacked by my saxophone. For the third time since I’ve hired it, the mouthpiece spiked my lip. Cringing in pain, I shifted my grip on the possessed instrument and pricked my thumb on a cunningly placed lever that had been sharpened for just such an opportune moment to occur.
We have been trying to learn various fipple instruments over the past month or so and we were getting on quite well until four days ago. Then suddenly every damn note started coming out as a squeak. The problem is that either our fingers have suddenly become incapable of covering the holes on our alto recorders, soprano recorders and my C tin whistle or that all the holes have mysteriously become much larger.
I’ll probably fall out of my own bed tonight and brain myself.