A day out!

I'm shattered.

Sylvester, our ancient and noisy cat, was very good and let me lie in until 7 this morning (he's normally grumbling at us by around 5.30) but, even so, it feels like I spent last night on the piss.  Which is odd, really, because yesterday was spent with the inestimable Katyboo (plus friends and family) doing very genteel things like going to the theatre and eating cake.  I'm such a lightweight.

I spent the morning at home alone as TLH had returned to his native homeland in order to construct flatpack furniture for his mam and stay over, and he left at about 7.30.  I got the 10.28 up to Waterloo, then the tube to Leicester Square and pootled about until our scheduled meeting time of 12 noon outside the theatre.  I was a little concerned that we'd not recognise each other but bearing in mind that my deciding to slap on some unaccustomed makeup plus my pink hair resulted in me ending up with a more than passing resemblance to Ronald McDonald, there was little difficulty in them spotting me in the heaving throng of bloody tourists.

It was a very nice surprise to discover that the Boo clan does actually exist and aren't just a figure of my deranged imagination.  And it shouldn't really have been a surprise to me to find that, literally within 5 minutes of meeting for the very first time, Katy and I were chatting about how much more perky properly fitted Rigby and Peller bras make your boobs.

Indeed, conversation between the 5 of was free ranging and organic, and included (but was not limited to) the following:

• Whether or not the old Queen Mary had been given syphilis by her husband
• The wisdom of importing Nazi memorabilia from Germany in order to make a killing (sorry) on eBay
• Why crowns aren't more acceptable as everyday wear
• That antique bakelite and diamante jewellery should be worn for doing the housework in
• My inability to tap dance properly - I can do the feet but not the arms, and perhaps I'd be better suited to Irish riverdance stuff
• Whether we could set up Katy and her dad in a shop to read tarot cards and do spiritual readings
• Why 'esoteric' bookshops always smell of soap (it's the incense)
• Pondering whether anyone was going to order 'Sauteed Dragon Whiskers with Two Kinds of Preserved Egg' on the menu
• Or, indeed, the 'Braised Duck's Web with Fish Lips'.  For realz.
• That you can change the sex of Gecko offspring depending on whether the egg is kept hot or cold.
• That someone has seriously misunderstood the meaning of the word 'diet' if they think that includes the consumption of a large pork pie
• The makes and colour of various combine harvesters
• Back in 1981 seeing Donald Sinden in blackface playing the lead in Othello, depicting the mad scene by just waving his hands around a lot and moaning
• The wisdom of trying to save money by constructing a much-needed neckbrace from (unused) old-style sanitary towels with loops and then being sent to school in it by your mother
• Whether it would be possible to convince one's husband to wear a bandalero made from (unused) Tampax

....and so on.

Should you get the opportunity to meet Ms Boo in the flesh, I would highly recommend it for, not only is she most entertaining, she knows where the good cake shops are, a skill to be much admired and one in which I am sadly lacking.

The play?  You want to know about the play?  Okay.  We saw Dr Who and Donna in 'Much Ado About Nothing' at Wyndhams Theatre.  Now it's well known in Jones Towers that my critical faculties are sadly lacking - I enjoy pretty much everything; I'm very easily entertained.  And I thoroughly enjoyed this - yes, there was some scenery-chewing and a fair amount of slapstick but it all worked really well, and the cast looked like they were enjoying themselves too.  The audience gave them a standing ovation which, for a Saturday matinee two-thirds through the run, is good going.  Needless to say, reviews have been terrific and tickets are like gold dust but if you can get one, do go, it's terrific fun.

And my day ended with being able to get home in time to watch on the Proms the National Youth Orchestra playing Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet suite which had me snivelling like a baby.

All round, a bloody fab day!

Finally did it.....sort of....

I wrote this post over a year ago.  It was a post about dying my hair properly pink.  I was umm'ing and ahh'ing about it but decided I would probably do it, when I finally plucked up the courage.

I finally plucked up the courage.  And it's sort of worked.  But, hey, look, I took pictures to show you the progress.  However, a bit of backstory first:

I decided last week that I'd had enough of shoulder length hair.  It clogs up the bath plug.  It makes the back of my neck hot which means, every summer, I have to sleep with it pinned up high on top of my head.  It takes an age to dry and I hate, hate, hate it hanging all wet and limp around my neck but I also don't like using a hairdryer.  The plus points to having long hair is that it doesn't cost you anything at the hairdresser because, um, I didn't go to a hairdresser.  When the ends got splitty or the fringe too long, I just took a pair of scissors to it myself, and job's a good 'un. Or, at least, a respectable 'un.

Having a complete restyle in a fancy schmancy salon would cost an arm and a leg but I found a friend of a friend who works in a salon during the day and does private customers (clients? patients?) after work for a very reasonable price.  So I contacted her and she came round on Wednesday this week and she hacked it all off.

In the back of my mind I'd been preparing for this, and the subsequent bleaching and dyeing, so had been growing the old colour out and letting my natural, fag-ash grey colour dominate, so that I could start from a clean slate, as it were.

Anyway, this is what it looked like before I let Hannah get her magic scissors on it:

Sort of fairly nondescript, shoulder length bob that's pink at the ends but greying on the top.

Hannah then did this to it:

And suddenly I was turned into my mother.   This is no reflection at all on Hannah's skills as I think she did a really good job, it's just, all of a sudden I seem to have developed the neck of an almost-50 year old woman which had been successfully hidden by lots of hair before, and even though I am an almost-50 year old woman, I don't really want any of her bodyparts knocking around - know what I mean?  The haircut itself was fine but I was just not sure about it.  I felt a bit 'mumsy'.

TLH arrived home, though, and decided he loved it and made me put my new sunglasses on so he could take a picture and, I must admit, it doesn't look too bad here, but then I always look better slightly out of focus:

Thursday (yesterday), I decided I might as well slap the bleach on that I'd bought and see what happened.  If I didn't like it, I knew I'd got some brown hair dye and also some Eastern European hooker purple colour hair dye in the cupboard left over from when I used to dye it that colour, so, if the worst came to the worst, I could always use either of those.

When I used to bleach my hair totally peroxide white, back in the 80s, I used to use a brand that didn't have added colour - the idea was that you bleached the feck out of your hair, then added the colour that you wanted.  And, stupidly, I thought that was what I had bought this time.  Turned out it was a brand that had a colour already in it.  In this case it was 'gold'.  Oh well, I thought, let's give it a go and see what happens.

So onto my head it got plastered while I sat and watched a minor black and white Alfred Hitchcock flick on the box ('Shadow of a Doubt' with Joseph Cotton - pretty good, actually):

 (By the way, these are all pictures that I took of the process to send to TLH during the day, so he could see what I was up to!).

The end result was quite interesting, a sort of pale goldeny biscuit colour.  And because I had so many different colours in my hair to begin with - naturally dark, grey, silver white, pink - it looked like I'd had highlights:

I actually quite liked the colour, and was half tempted to keep it.  But then I knew that was not going to fulfil my dream of having pink hair so decided that I'd carry on with my plan.

This morning, Friday, I had to nip out to run a few errands before I got down to it, so it eventually took me until lunchtime to get up to the bathroom, brush in hand.

This is the colour I'm using - Special Effects Atomic Pink:

Which looks blood red in the bottle and is, actually, that colour when you put it on, but comes out pink.

I'd squirted out about a third of the bottle into the bowl, loaded up the dye applicator brush, raised it to my head and then stopped.  I almost, ALMOST bottled it, right there.  I started wondering what the hell I was doing?  What was I trying to achieve?  For Christ's sake, I'm forty-bloody-eight years old with the figure of a grandmother, not some willowy eighteen year old art student.  What if I hated it?  What if it looked really, REALLY stupid?

Then I remembered that it's just hair, it grows out.  And I have two packs of back-up 'normal' hair colour that I can use if I freak out.  And - okay, I admit it - while I do want people to notice me, I really, honestly don't give a toss what they think about me; I just don't want to be invisible.  Zandra Rhodes is my role model.

So I took a deep breath and started plastering it on:

No going back now!  Oh God - what have I done?????

You're supposed to leave it on for 15 minutes, and the colour will be brighter depending on how porous and/or bleached your hair is.  I left it on for 45 minutes, as I wanted to be sure the colour was as strong as it would go.

You know what?  It's fantastic:

I think it would have been even brighter if I'd managed to get my hair peroxide white to start off with, rather than biscuity golden, but I still think the colour's pretty good.  Plus it's actually brighter pink in real life, and, yes, I know there's gratuitous cleavage in that shot - don't say I'm not generous to you all...

So here I'm looking like my mum still but at least I'm ROCKING PINK HAIR, DUDES!!!

And here's a final, glamorous, sunglasses shot which I think is pretty cool and badass, melonfarmers!

I'm now feeling MUCH happier about the haircut and am pleased I plucked up the courage to go ahead with it.  Admittedly, I haven't left the house yet to show it off in public but I'm off to London tomorrow to finally meet up with the fragrant Ms Katyboo for the first time so she'll be one of the first of my friends to see it and have her retinas burnt out!

Who, me? Overshare? D'you think?

I had a bit of a first today.

Today was the very first time I've done housework in the nude.  Yes, you read that right, completely starkers.  Before you think I've gone all German and naturist on you, I shall explain.

I've started running again.  I had a bit of a hiatus - throughout the whole of May, June and half of July I only ran 8 times which averages out at about 1.25 runs per week, which is a bit rubbish really.  But the weather was often against me and then I sort of 'forgot' that I was supposed to be running.  The weather from mid-July, though, has been much improved.  Plus I also remembered that I'd got a portable blood pressure monitoring machine so thought I'd better check it one morning a coupla weeks ago and it was a bit higher than I would like.  Admittedly I'd woken that morning with a tickly throat and had, in fact, just had a massive and prolonged coughing fit before strapping on the armband, which can't have helped, but even so, I thought, time to step up the running again.

So I'm trying to get back into the habit of going out if not every other day (it's best not to run every day, a day's break in between is optimal for muscle recovery, etc., and, yes, that does include shamblers like me) then the day after that - what's that, every 2 days? every 3?  It's maths and counting, I can't do maths and counting, but you know what I mean - run on Monday, rest Tuesday, possibly go out Wednesday and, if not, then definitely Thursday (but Wednesday if I feel up to it), you get the picture.

At the moment I'm averaging around 1.8 miles per run but I'm also suffering from bloody shin splints again and the only 'cure' that I can find online is 'don't do too much, or go too fast, too quickly' so I'm trying to keep the pace slow but steady so it doesn't get too painful.  Therefore I'm resigned to not seeing the far side of a 2 mile run for a very, very long time, but that's okay.  Slow and steady will get there, I hope.

Anyhoo, I went out this morning at about 9.30am and went my usual route - down the road, into the meadow, along the path down the edge of the poppy field (which, this year, had no poppies in it but was spectacular last year) and into the corn (maize) field which has grown as high as an elephant's eye.  I wonder what variety it is since it's MASSIVE.  The corn I grow at the allotment is lucky to make it to 5 feet tall but this stuff has to be 7 or 8 feet tall.  I usually get through one of the cornfields before the voice on my C25K iPhone app chimes in with 'you are halfway through your workout', which is the cue for me to turn round and head on home.  It was a lovely morning, blue sky, sunny with scuds of cloud and just this side of bearably hot.  I shambled home, sweat literally pouring off me, shut the front door and plonked myself into the chair in our hallway while I checked the stats on my iPhone (I'm SUCH a geek) and took my shoes off.

It dawned on me then that we'd left our sitting room curtains closed this morning (we often do this as the sun comes up on that side of the house) so rather than go all the way up two flights of stairs to strip off my sodden running gear and then eventually traipse back down two flights of stairs with it to put in the washing machine, I could take it all off in the hallway and just load it into the washing machine in our ground floor utility cupboard right there and then.  Head on upstairs, pass through the sitting room (on the first floor) and carry on upstairs to the bathroom for a shower; curtains are closed, no horses (or neighbours) would be startled by the amazingly pink and wrinkled suit I was apparently wearing, job's a good 'un.  So mote it be.

I was on the final, skyclad, approach to the bathroom when I suddenly realised that I had told myself that I was going to do the hoovering today.  I'm not very good at doing housework - I have a bloke's natural inability to see clutter and dust and stuff and so it doesn't bother me.  Until it does.  Like now, when the cat gets stuck to the floor because it's so sticky and we're fending off giant tumbleweeds of his discarded cat hair spiralling around in various corners when there's a draught.  I know I have to get the hoover out but I hate doing it - a three-storey house has a lot of floor space and two flights of carpeted stairs are a right pain in the hole to do.  Plus - and this is the whole point of my rambling - hoovering always, always gets me very hot and extremely sweaty - I've been known to need a shower after doing it.

You're ahead of me, aren't you?

I had a lightbulb moment.  I halted my progress to the bathroom, turned back and headed off into the garage to get the Henry.  Stark bollock naked.

Took me about 40 minutes to hoover everything and, yes, I did get very hot and sweaty again, and I felt perfectly justified for doing it au naturelle when I felt the big trickles of sweat running down from under my giant lolloping boobs (can I offer you some bleach for your mind's eye?  It's just over there, help yourself...), knowing that it wasn't soaking into the clean clothes I'd have put on following my post-run shower because I wasn't wearing any and I hadn't had one!  Hooray!

So that's how I spent my morning - how was yours?

PS.  Yes, of course I had a shower afterwards - I'm not completely without standards, you know!

PPS.  I'm getting all my hair cut off next week.  Finally.  After threatening months ago to do it, the time has finally arrived.

Which wolf to feed?

I'm not given to airy-fairy, arty-farty New Age bollockspeak but occasionally - just occasionally - I read something that makes me stop and think for a second (and then continue on my normal, ramshackle way).

I read this today and I'll just leave it here because I actually quite like it:

”My son, there is a battle between two wolves inside us all. One is Evil. It is anger, jealousy, greed, resentment, inferiority, lies, & ego. The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, humility, kindness, empathy, & truth.” The boy thought about it, and asked, “Grandfather, which wolf wins?” The old man quietly replied, “The one you feed.”

Still here!

Blimey.  Where has the last month gone?  'I have no bloody idea' is the answer.

My blogging mojo left me yet again.  I'm not sure it's returned yet either, but I thought I'd better check in.  I shouldn't think anyone's noticed I'd gone quiet again, after all I'm not the most prolific blogger on the planet.

So what's been happening with you all, mes amis?  It's got to that time of year where those of you with mini-me's are all caught up with end of school/beginning of the summer holidays madness, aren't you?  Meanwhile, life rumbles on at its inexorable pace here at Jones Towers.  The Lovely Husband is still working and earning some pennies - which is good - at a job he's not enjoying very much - which is bad - to which he is driving the Little Car every day - which is good - but occasionally the traffic coming home is so bad it takes him nearly 3 hours to get home - which is awful, frankly.  The contract he's on is due to end fairly soon, and he's looking forward to not having to work there anymore, but he thinks there's a distinct likelihood that it'll be renewed again for another few months. And in this economic climate, you'd be an idiot not to accept the renewal.  Poor lovey, I do feel sorry for him.

And what am I up to just now?  Well, following all the excitement of joining The Fugitives and playing a couple of gigs in the last few months, no more gigs have come along (although I've been looking and sending out emails) so it's all gone a bit quiet on that front.  I've no doubt there'll be more at some future point, it's just getting them that's the problem.

However, if you can be arsed to go back a couple of posts, you'll see that I referred to my good friend Bev having a suggestion about a new musical venture she thinks we should explore.  She finally got round to telling me about it and, I believe, it has legs.  She's suggesting that we set ourselves up as a sax duo (her on tenor and baritone, me on alto), playing along to backing tracks.  We would play soul, easy listening, familiar tunes and having the backing tracks means you don't have a full band behind you, meaning that we'd be cheaper to hire than a full band (being only a 2-piece).  We could play in smaller venues and at places that just wanted incidental music, such as wine bars, art galleries, that sort of thing.  See what I mean?  It might work.  My only real concern is my actual ability to play that well - doubts that I expressed to Bev and which she, very kindly, dismissed out of hand.

I'm willing to give it a go but I will need a LOT of practice.  To that end I've downloaded about a dozen tracks so far to play over - stuff like Fly Me To The Moon, Cry Me a River, Perhaps Perhaps Perhaps, Dock of the Bay, Rescue Me - soul tunes that we play in The Fugitives but also other well known songs.  I may even sing some of them but I'll need to see how Bev feels about that.  She's heading back to Cape Verde in a few days and will back mid-August so we'll put our heads together when she returns. I'll keep you posted.

My new saxophone is still very lovely but also appreciably heavier than my old one and, consequently, is putting a much greater strain on the back of my neck when I use the standard sort of neckstrap.  It's been giving me backache and neck strain, leading to some very unwelcome headaches.  I've decided to get a harness instead so the weight is distributed across the shoulders rather than the back of the neck - like this:

In fact, this is the very one I've just ordered.  It's specially designed for women so hopefully it'll cope with my matronly boobshelf.  Bev uses one for her Baritone, but it's standard to use a harness for those because they're huge instruments and very heavy indeed, it's not so common for an alto but if it means less trips to the chiropractor for me, then that's all to the good.

Hmm, what else?  Oh yes, I had a MUCH better day at the last craft fair in Alresford that I did - the one before that I only sold one pair of earrings for £8.50 - I whinged about it, if you recall - but this time sold just over a hundred quid's worth!   There's no predicting how the British public want to spend their money and it's a waste of time trying to second guess them....  But obviously I'm pleased they're spending again (well, they were in July at least) because I'm now saving my money to buy yet another musical instrument!

Yes, I have my eye on a digital piano now.  I used to play piano and had lessons back in the late 1970s in  my early teen years, and I got up to Grade V before jacking it in.  I can remember reading not very long ago some article, though, that said many people who gave up playing the piano in their teen years come back to it at a later date, and I think that's true, at least in my case.  I may have come back to it earlier but, as far as I was aware, pianos only came in Grand, baby grand or upright versions, were big and heavy and were LOUD.  I didn't have the room anywhere in my house to put one and, almost more importantly, I was painfully aware of how annoying the sound of constant scales and wrong notes would be to my neighbours.

Then I saw the digital pianos in Chamberlains when I was scouting for a new saxophone.  And I was stopped in my tracks.  Digital pianos have no need for strings and hammers so the only space they take up is the size of the keyboard itself.  These were neat and tiny by comparison but still had a full-size keyboard. One of the sales chappies spotted me lovingly stroking one of them and wandered over for a chat.  He explained that there were several sound settings one could choose from, but the main piano sound had been recorded from a Steinway Grand.  Then he said the magic words, "and of course you can practise silently on it".  Seems there's a couple of jacks underneath where you can plug in headphones, and bash away at the keyboard as loud as you like and no-one else can hear you!  Brilliant!

There are actually quite a lot of digital pianos on the market, some of which are very expensive, but I just want an ordinary bog-standard piano, that sounds authentic, takes up little room and plays silently.  I have my eye on this little one, a Roland F-110.  It's only 1.3m long and just over 300cms tall:

With the lid closed it has a flattish top and looks a bit like a console table:

And because it's their entry-level piano, it's not too badly priced at £799 if you go to Chamberlains showroom in Haslemere (online practically everywhere else - and shops too - it's priced at £849).  Now I'm not denying that this is a lot of money, because it is, but it's cheaper than a brand new traditional upright piano and don't forget it takes up much less room than a traditional upright and it's silent! Plus, being digital, you can also record from it onto a computer via some sort of lead out the back or something, but that's TLH's domain and I'll leave him to figure that out.

We've identified 3 or 4 places where one would fit in the house so now it's just a question of saving up my pennies (I'm just over a quarter of the way there), asking for contributions instead of christmas presents and adding birthday money and it shouldn't take too long before I'm boring myself stupid playing scales but without annoying the neighbours!

Finally, I've been very slowly working on a crocheted shawl for the winter.  So far I've made cushion covers, three blankets, a couple of scarves, some flowers, a beanie hat and some hanging decorations, but my eye was captured several months ago by a Japanese flower design:

Beautiful, isn't it?  So I decided I needed one of these in my life, and then I saw a version made in mohair which just blew me away:

And so I got myself some balls of Rowan Kidsilk Aura which is made from 70% kid mohair and 30% silk and, consequently, frightfully expensive.  I'm using three shades - a plummy purple, a watermelon pink and a powder pink.  I need to make around 40 of the flowers and I'm up to 10 now, I think.  Anyway, this is what my flowers look like:

And this one gives you a better idea of the fuzziness of the mohair:

I haven't found the mohair to be that tricky to work with although undoing stitches if you've gone wrong and have to redo them is a pain as the little hairs all wrap around each other, so you need scissors to give them a trim but I'm liking the way this is going so I'll post pics when it's done.

Oh, now look, I have nothing to say for weeks and then I just ramble on.  Imma shut up now as I need to put the kettle on and deal with an ancient cat who firmly believes there's not enough cream in his life and never fails to tell me at every opportunity....

Ooh - shiny!

Remember in my last post I mentioned spotting a secondhand Yamaha YAS62 sax in Chamberlains music store in Haslemere?

It's now resting gently in its stand in my living room.  Yes, gentle reader, I went back to the shop two days later, gave it a good blow in their practice room (which was more like an unsoundproofed storage cupboard, frankly) and decided that it was infinitely better than the student horn I've been using since the 1980s.

Here she is, in the case she came in, which was pretty beaten up.  Fortunately they gave me a free lightweight Reunion Blues gig case which has a strap so you can carry it on your shoulder or across your back.

Taken outside in the sunshine, on the bridge.   She's in very nearly almost perfect condition, there's just the smallest dent above the thumb rest on the back, but she was secondhand so small imperfections are to be expected.

Just look at that beautiful, almost Art Deco-style, swirly, curvy one-piece key guard that just swoops around the bottom and up the front of the bell - gorgeous.

The sax is an instrument that's crammed with pads and buttons and levers, but it is actually easier to play than it looks - if you can play a recorder or, perhaps, a clarinet, then you can play a sax.

It's maybe not terribly clear in this photo (you can click on the pics to make them bigger) but the bell of the YAS62 is engraved with swirls and stars.

It's a professional standard saxophone as opposed to the student version that I've been using.  This means that it's been built to a great level of accuracy, there are more keys and levers than my old one and - what surprised me - it's appreciably heavier.  This indicates to me that the metal is thicker which will affect the tone of the instrument - a richer, heavier sound.  It sounds like an alto sax should.

Some more photos, I think - indoors, this time:

The buttons here are Mother of Pearl, and these are the ones that are played with the left hand - index finger on the top button, middle finger on the third one down and the ring finger on the bottom one that is at an angle.  Your little finger operates the collection of four keys (that are in a sort of circle arrangement - called spatulas, I believe) below and to the right (in the picture) of the bottom Mother of Pearl key.  The three levers on the right, a bit higher than the spatulas, that look a bit like snakeheads, are called palm keys and, as the name suggests, you operate them with your left palm.  There are similar sorts of key arrangements that you operate with your right hand, below all this lot.

I suppose it is a bit complicated, really.

One more look at her on the sofa.

The sound is noticeably (to me, anyway) different from my old sax, although I'm not too sure about the mouthpiece.  There are any number of combinations of style and size of mouthpiece that can be used with at least 5 different thicknesses of reed, all of which will affect the sound you make, so that's a whole other area I suppose I ought to wade my way through.

Anyway, I just thought I'd show you my new acquisition - the single most expensive thing I think I've ever bought (possibly more than my first ever car!)  I'm definitely getting it insured, probably by joining the Musicians' Union.

So all I need now is some gigs to play it at!!

A week of ups and downs....

I felt very miserable on Saturday.  The Lovely Husband and I were at the craft fair in Alresford, Hampshire.  We go here about 7 or 8 times a year.  When we first started there, about 4 years ago now I should think, our takings were really good, easily just into three figures almost every time.  Then the economy died on its arse and my takings there have become erratic.

But guess how many things I sold on Saturday.

One.

One single, solitary pair of earrings.

For £8.50.

We sat there from 8.15am until 4.30pm and I took just £8.50.

Sigh.

Plus the table space cost me £16 so, effectively, I made a loss of £7.50, not to mention the cost of the petrol to get there. Worst craft fair I've ever done, anywhere.

Double sigh with added tutting.

I almost wish I'd sold nothing at all, but I still have that joy to come.

I know I can't force people to buy my stuff, especially when it's so unnecessary to one's everyday life - as my mum says (she's also in the craft game, she does fabulous decoupage on stuff) "We're not making sausages", in other words, people are more likely these days to spend their hard-earned on food and fuel than on decorations for their house or person.

Sigh.

It just all seems like a massive waste of time.  However, I shall plod on, not least because it will get better towards christmas - and as tomorrow is Midsummer Day, it's all downhill to christmas from then on - but I have a large stash of beads, pearls, crystals and semi-precious stones that I need to use up!  Plus I'm registered with the tax people in order to pay National Insurance Contributions so that my full state pension is guaranteed, and so I need to produce annual accounts for them, which means I need to sell stuff in order to have something to put in said accounts.  I don't make enough profit in order to pay any tax, mind you, but at least I'll get enough of a pension when I'm old and grizzled to be able to buy my tins of cat food. So that's okay.

Secondly, today I had to go to the dentist to have a big job done.  One of those ones that they insist you book an hour's appointment for.  I have to have an 'on-lay' which is not, apparently, the same as an 'in-lay' (of which I have one) or a crown (of which I also have one).  It's sort of half-and-half.  It's a big bottom left  molar which has a decades-old filling in it that's starting to leak, and there are hairline cracks appearing on all four side, so an on-lay sort of holds the tooth altogether.  I'm typing this with half my face feeling all fat and numb, hoping the anaesthesia will wear off soon so I can have a cup of tea without fear of dribbling it all down my matronly shelf-boob, or biting into my tongue.

Actually, my dentist is terrific - although he ought to be, at the prices he charges.  It being a private dental clinic it is, of course, more like a fancy spa than those terrifying NHS clinics of your childhood that were all painted institutional green and smelled of antiseptic.  At my clinic they have a hypnotherapist available to help you get over your dental fears, and an in-house reflexologist (for some reason).  All the hygienists wear colour co-ordinated scrubs, and they pipe Brian Eno's Ambient music into the treatment rooms.

I currently have a temporary crown thing on the tooth in question and have to go back in 2 weeks to have the new porcelain on-lay fitted, and that tooth should last me for at least another 20 years.

Just down the road from the clinic is Chamberlains, a large music shop.  I've never been in there before so I thought I'd wander down there for a poke around.  It's a big shop, filled with all sorts of instruments, including brass and woodwind.  And I espied, in a display case, a secondhand saxophone of the exact make and model that I think I'm after!  For a reasonable price!  Sadly, having a numb face meant I would not be able to take it for a test blow, but I think I may well come back in a few days and ask if I can try it out and see what I think.  Excited!!!

I texted Bev (my lovely sax playing friend) about my find in Chamberlains and she rang me when I got home to tell me that she's had a brilliant idea about another musical venture that she and I can do, but she wouldn't tell me what it was!!  Such a tease!!  She said she wanted to think about it for a few days yet, and then we'd meet up for a coffee and she'd tell me what she thought.  She did ask, though, what kind of music I most enjoyed playing - I told her that I actually enjoy most things but it's more a case of whether I'd be capable of playing it.

Intriguing.  I shall keep you informed.

So, a week of ups and downs - Alresford = bad; dentist = bad but necessary and not too horrendous in the end; potential new sax located = exciting; Bev's plans = intriguing.  Plus it's Glastonbury on the telly this coming weekend which TLH and I always enjoy watching.

How's your week been so far (and it's only Monday!)?