My brother is ripping himself to shreds emotionally, thanks to his heart. He has got his own place together, having split up with his partner of ten plus years. The woman he left her for has devided to get married to another older fellow, and yet she still phones him to talk about things. Of course he is like a moth around a flame, and though all rational parts of him can see this, they are not doing the driving just now. He was always a bit grumpyish from time to time, but right now he is properly depressed. We are somewhat helpless. All we can do is let him bounce his thoughts and feelings off us as he sees fit. I've toyed with the idea of getting cross with him, in the 'belt up now' fashion, but I'm not made that way, and I'm not sure it would help.
Dad's got a bad chest infection, but as choirmaster at the local church in the village, he is still going down tonight for the rehearsal. Both him and Mum have maybe found my brother a bit of a strain at times while he has been staying at theirs. They are positively heroic in their support for my brothers and I over the years.
Played two gigs now in the band. The first was at F-----s, and went well according to feedback. We were supporting another band in which was several chaps I had previously played with at various times. One of them, K----y, is possibly the best drummer I've known. He has a truly joyous grasp of grooves, and hapily mixes quavers and triplets with minimal effort. He would be in the supergroup that I dream of theoretically. That gig was blighted by my suffering from a heavy bout of flu. I knew I didn't play as sweetly as I might have liked, but nobody else seemed to notice. This pleased me somewhat.
That bout of flu was a reminder of frailty for me. At its worst, I was fairly badly off. I felt ridiculously tired, and there was a part of me could hardly believe how pathetic I found myself. It took three days off work to get back on my feet, and I nursed a bad chest with a very satisfying rattle for a month. Still enjoyed the occasional joint of course. This was despite some nights when my chest was so bad that I wondered if the rate of gaseous exchange was sufficient to keep me conscious. Fine now, thankfully, beside the now resident smokers cough.
The second gig was an unusual and abbreviated affair . We were first of three at a newish (To me - I don't get out much in town these days) venue. It had previously been a cavernous snooker hall under the Jobcentre. Now it held two bars, a capacious dancefloor and a nice stage. The sound system was excellent and fairly new. We were delighted, and got a good soundcheck. The second band were 18-20ish lads playing stuff that was fast and jagged but, I have to say, not particularly inspiring. The third band were Canadian fellows on a two week tour of the UK, called Ten Kens. Their soundcheck sounded cool and they looked the part too. One guitarist was a short lad withe dark hair tucked under a woolly hat, sporting a pretty chunky black beard. He also wore a pair of glasses that put in place the final move to recreate a kind of 20 something Allen Ginsberg look. He was the guitarist while the bass player was a tall thin dude, with those small rectangular glasses.
At 8.45 we played a neat compact set which kind of was too short for me to really get into my stride. This was a Wednesday night and the audience was minimal. Maybe twenty people in attendance including staff. More a sort of dress rehearsal, though for what, I do not know. My youngest brother's Mrs came along with one of her clients. She works in a home for people with behavioural disabilities. C----n is a chap with some kind of autistic spectrum thing. I imagine he would come under the lower functioning end of the scale, since he didn't have any speech, but apparently liked music. He was indeed the only person dancing during our set. He continued to do so during the second band, but came to sit down after a couple of their songs. I sat with him and my brothers Mrs while he nursed his pint of beer. At that moment I witnessed him swifty pick it up and toss it in a perfectly formed arc above us and over our heads so that it crashed down on the mixing desk in the sound booth behind us. It happened almost in slow motion in my minds eye and I remember the thoughts evolving into sheer horror as it travelled along its trajectory.
Within seconds, the sound cut out, followed shortly after that by the building lights. The lights came on again as people fiddled with switches and the sound man frantically attempted to mop up as much of the beer as he could with whatever porous items he could lay his hands on. The landlord behaved comletely nobly at all times in the aftermath and deserved a place in heaven for his tolerance and decorum. It was, I kept telling me, a random terrible moment. An act of God, in insurance parlance. I had for several moments literally wished that the earth could have swallowed me up. Unfortunately the proceedings were drawn to a close at that point, and we never did get to hear the rest of the set by the Ten Kens. Classic situation.
Dad's got a bad chest infection, but as choirmaster at the local church in the village, he is still going down tonight for the rehearsal. Both him and Mum have maybe found my brother a bit of a strain at times while he has been staying at theirs. They are positively heroic in their support for my brothers and I over the years.
Played two gigs now in the band. The first was at F-----s, and went well according to feedback. We were supporting another band in which was several chaps I had previously played with at various times. One of them, K----y, is possibly the best drummer I've known. He has a truly joyous grasp of grooves, and hapily mixes quavers and triplets with minimal effort. He would be in the supergroup that I dream of theoretically. That gig was blighted by my suffering from a heavy bout of flu. I knew I didn't play as sweetly as I might have liked, but nobody else seemed to notice. This pleased me somewhat.
That bout of flu was a reminder of frailty for me. At its worst, I was fairly badly off. I felt ridiculously tired, and there was a part of me could hardly believe how pathetic I found myself. It took three days off work to get back on my feet, and I nursed a bad chest with a very satisfying rattle for a month. Still enjoyed the occasional joint of course. This was despite some nights when my chest was so bad that I wondered if the rate of gaseous exchange was sufficient to keep me conscious. Fine now, thankfully, beside the now resident smokers cough.
The second gig was an unusual and abbreviated affair . We were first of three at a newish (To me - I don't get out much in town these days) venue. It had previously been a cavernous snooker hall under the Jobcentre. Now it held two bars, a capacious dancefloor and a nice stage. The sound system was excellent and fairly new. We were delighted, and got a good soundcheck. The second band were 18-20ish lads playing stuff that was fast and jagged but, I have to say, not particularly inspiring. The third band were Canadian fellows on a two week tour of the UK, called Ten Kens. Their soundcheck sounded cool and they looked the part too. One guitarist was a short lad withe dark hair tucked under a woolly hat, sporting a pretty chunky black beard. He also wore a pair of glasses that put in place the final move to recreate a kind of 20 something Allen Ginsberg look. He was the guitarist while the bass player was a tall thin dude, with those small rectangular glasses.
At 8.45 we played a neat compact set which kind of was too short for me to really get into my stride. This was a Wednesday night and the audience was minimal. Maybe twenty people in attendance including staff. More a sort of dress rehearsal, though for what, I do not know. My youngest brother's Mrs came along with one of her clients. She works in a home for people with behavioural disabilities. C----n is a chap with some kind of autistic spectrum thing. I imagine he would come under the lower functioning end of the scale, since he didn't have any speech, but apparently liked music. He was indeed the only person dancing during our set. He continued to do so during the second band, but came to sit down after a couple of their songs. I sat with him and my brothers Mrs while he nursed his pint of beer. At that moment I witnessed him swifty pick it up and toss it in a perfectly formed arc above us and over our heads so that it crashed down on the mixing desk in the sound booth behind us. It happened almost in slow motion in my minds eye and I remember the thoughts evolving into sheer horror as it travelled along its trajectory.
Within seconds, the sound cut out, followed shortly after that by the building lights. The lights came on again as people fiddled with switches and the sound man frantically attempted to mop up as much of the beer as he could with whatever porous items he could lay his hands on. The landlord behaved comletely nobly at all times in the aftermath and deserved a place in heaven for his tolerance and decorum. It was, I kept telling me, a random terrible moment. An act of God, in insurance parlance. I had for several moments literally wished that the earth could have swallowed me up. Unfortunately the proceedings were drawn to a close at that point, and we never did get to hear the rest of the set by the Ten Kens. Classic situation.