: Reasons For Detachment, #457-8
Am back at Fortress Weymouth for our traditional Eurovision get-together. So far I've already rebuked my Daily Hell-reading grandfather, whose 42" HDTV we shall watch the show on, for suggesting all the voting is political.
The reader of this blog is going to like this - I'm now thinking both that picking up a new instrument is something I'd like to do sooner rather than later, and that said instrument will actually be clarinet. I'd contemplated viola, as I mentioned before, but this was largely on the suggestion of a friend who plays the instrument. She was right to point out the viola's use as a reasonable approximation to the human voice, but the clarinet's arguably a better one. Furthermore, I do just about prefer the sound of it - and I think I'd rather be limited by my lung capacity than the toughness of my fingers when learning a new instrument, especially when the former both benefits my vocal training and is improving generally due to my gym programme.
Anyway, that's scene-setting. Reasons for detachment. Having gone into town to have my hair cut against my will and paying 90% of Geordie Gerry's winnings for that privilege (that's #457), wandering towards charity shops (and metaphorically shaking a fist at the one for anti-abortion charity Life) I came across a music shop. And in the window... you guessed it. A clarinet. For £49.
I told myself 'oh, but at that price it'd be useless'. Then I thought '...I'd get it if it was in Southampton but here, the family will know'. From there, of course, general family-related rage took over.
This reminds me of how independence and autonomy, contrary to the insistence of the family, is still a live issue.
Am back at Fortress Weymouth for our traditional Eurovision get-together. So far I've already rebuked my Daily Hell-reading grandfather, whose 42" HDTV we shall watch the show on, for suggesting all the voting is political.
The reader of this blog is going to like this - I'm now thinking both that picking up a new instrument is something I'd like to do sooner rather than later, and that said instrument will actually be clarinet. I'd contemplated viola, as I mentioned before, but this was largely on the suggestion of a friend who plays the instrument. She was right to point out the viola's use as a reasonable approximation to the human voice, but the clarinet's arguably a better one. Furthermore, I do just about prefer the sound of it - and I think I'd rather be limited by my lung capacity than the toughness of my fingers when learning a new instrument, especially when the former both benefits my vocal training and is improving generally due to my gym programme.
Anyway, that's scene-setting. Reasons for detachment. Having gone into town to have my hair cut against my will and paying 90% of Geordie Gerry's winnings for that privilege (that's #457), wandering towards charity shops (and metaphorically shaking a fist at the one for anti-abortion charity Life) I came across a music shop. And in the window... you guessed it. A clarinet. For £49.
I told myself 'oh, but at that price it'd be useless'. Then I thought '...I'd get it if it was in Southampton but here, the family will know'. From there, of course, general family-related rage took over.
This reminds me of how independence and autonomy, contrary to the insistence of the family, is still a live issue.