Up at 6:00, sit and get dressed. I decide not to wear the clothes I ironed last night, but need to iron a different set. I have no idea why this is. I have not worried about such things before.
I get to the station at about twenty to eight – I am currently ahead of the beat. I buy a cup of coffee from a woman who complains bitterly about the fact that I only have a ten pound note. Every day she gets this, apparantly, the first three customers eat up her float. I think “surely that tells you something about the nature of the float you draw, which you could rectify”, but decide against saying anything.
The train journey is smooth and straightforward and deposits me at Southampton station on time. Now I have to find a bus to take me to the University. A couple of trips around the station and I realise that this is easier said than done, so I buy a local A-Z and start to walk (the actual town appears not to resemble either the map I downloaded last night nor the ones on the bus stops. Perhaps they are trying to keep the location of Southampton secret for security reasons).
I am now behind the beat.
I find the right bus stop at about the time that I realise that the distance is too far to walk. The bus arrives five minutes early (another obfuscatory tactic, I think), so ahead of the beat again, but I get off a stop early and thus lapse behind.
All of which results in my arriving at exactly the time I intended to: 10:00.
It’s the first UK guitar circle for a while, and a very good day. Martin has come over as part of his extended trip to Europe to lead the circle and instruct us. He manages to ascertain that not only can I not fret the string, but I can’t pluck it. Not only can’t I pluck the string, but I’m incapable even of holding the guitar properly.
There is much circulating and work on the Emergent Theme. And a very fine and welcome buffet lunch. And it appears that there is a quorum in London, so we may have a London Guitar Circle yet. Or triangle, anyway. We can even fit in my living-room.
This is important. We need it. I am enthused. (And it appears that the blues have entered Guitar Craft.)
Getting back I set out again with the jazz guitar stuff for Sam’s leaving do at the Three Stags. I play (badly and superfluously) on a couple of tunes before it turns into the Karaoke. Although forced by Chicky to fill in a form (I plump for Night and Day, credited to Frank Sinatra, as all the jazz tunes are. At least it’s not Robbie Williams) I am spared the actual karaokeing. Thank goodness. Far too late to bed, nonetheless.