They call the wind Mary. Oh.

A second clarinet lesson this evening – I’d been finding practice a bit of an effort, but Cheryll has, quite rightly, decided that I need to find this fun and so has downloaded and printed a number of pieces, from Summertime via The Entertainer to The Flight of the Bumblebee which she thinks I’ll enjoy having a go at.  And half an hour’s lesson is still quite enough for me, as I run out of breath and embouchure by the end of it, but it’ll get better.  LT says it will, so it clearly will.

A problem with the drains, or rather the septic tanks’ outlet.  This is a fairly yucky job but, as LT is discovering, life in the country has its smellier side.  It’ll get sorted out tomorrow, but not by me, I’m afraid.  I have a meeting.

In other news, Wink has jetted off to New York for a few days, just for fun.  Thank goodness Henry has moved on.  Has anyone else noticed that it seems to be windier more regularly, now that we give them names?  I think we’ve encouraged them.  I looked them up a few weeks ago, I was really hoping that M, when it comes along, would be Maria.  Someone missed a trick there, then.

2 comments on “They call the wind Mary. Oh.

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