Drag myself from my bed at what now seems like an impressively early hour (although before my various lurgi – what is the plural of lurgi? – it wsa standard operational practise), sit, practise GC stuff and then do some bits to email off to someone (suitably vague, that, I hope), before noodling off to Jan Pienkowski’s place, where I’ll be assisting him in the arcane Adobean arts.
This involves catching a train out of Waterloo, an unnaturally painless process. On reaching my destination (or at least standing at the most dangerous bus stop in the world, which is in Barnes, if anyone’s interested) I try to contact someone to whom I should have sent something last night, but find that my mobile is virtually out of range. How fragile our metropolitan lives are.
I return by the reverse process at 6:30 and prepare for the Jazz Gig tonight. Or at least eat dinner and listen to The Archers.
I get there at about 8:20 and find Colin, the wrong drum kit and a superfluity of other musicians – it appears the pub has been double-booked. How should one react to this: to show peevishness would be signs of taking oneself too seriously (as opposed to playing chorus after chorus after chorus of some parker tune or other, which somehow doesn’t). We assemble at a table and laugh heartily about it, until the other band (who sort of got there first) invite us to jam with them, or at least the hugely gregarious and sociable bassist does.
So we do. Other members of our group are reticent and considerate, I personally overstay my welcome horribly as I always do. I have to say I realise this and don’t particularly care. So it’s another jam for the evening. At one point I complain about being left to play a blues in F forever, but then there are others who don’t mind about that sort of thing – an altoist whose solos get longer and longer until it reaches the point that it seems possible that they would ring last orders, time, do the chucking out and he’d still be noodling away. Except it doesn’t work out like that.
The final tune is based on the changes of a Russian folk tune, which is fun and mercifully easy.
And I have to get up again tomorrow (early, that is. I realise I have to get up at some point).
What chaos next, I wonder?