Okay, what's all this about?

 

Well, I'm just working on something for my tune The Immigrants. I don't think you'll be interested, but it should give me a really good intro to the tune. I had a very busy day yesterday, what with lawns and things, and only achieved half an hour of practice. I certainly hope to put that right today. However, it was good that Daryl came around and helped me straighten the bridge on The Bob.* Thanks Daryl.

I'll also need to do more practice on Anthropology today. Actually, I need to do more practice on all my 17 chosen pieces. Busy times.

It was good to see Peter write two posts in quick succession yesterday. The poor fellow turned up at golf but forgot his 'boarding pass'. Ah well, he got a walk out of it. Seems like he'll be looking for a new playing partner since his old one disappeared from the blogging scene. Good luck with that, Peter. No one has heard from Rob for nearly two weeks now. Maybe the Catholic church turned him into a martyr?

Saint Robert of Moera.

He'd turned up to what was to be a quiet evening mass with a possible few runs through the rosary. The church shop was well and truly shut up. It was definitely a bring your own rosary beads night. He was near the back and said a quiet prayer to Mary. There was a small group of old ladies sitting in the front pew. One had a baseball bat and one held a rather big knife. The priest who entered was a little fat fellow who was dressed in all the mass gear. He signaled the man sitting at the back to move up to the front. The priest spoke to him. "We need a patron saint. Someone who is prepared to give their life for Gsus." "It's spelt J-E-S-U-S." the man said. "Gsus is a musical term, used by people like my sinning brother. I've recently left his blogging community because he's going to Hell for eternity. Jesus certainly doesn't want him in Heaven." "Well, you'd better make an effort to get on with Mr. Linford." quipped the little fat priest. "Not everyone up there is going to be fun. Here's the deal, we let these ladies chop you up a bit and you become a martyr. We get our patron saint, and you walk into Heaven untouched and you don't have to live anywhere near Mr. Linford."

* One of my two double basses.