I was very tired when I'd finished harpsichording. After a quick visit to the pound shop I went home, and just sat there. Eventually I made some parathas to go with the curries I'd defrosted. I enjoyed my dinner, for a change.
I was consciously building myself up to playing at the pub. I was dreading it. I had butterflies in the stomach, and I could feel my pulse racing.
When I arrived there, there were only a few customers. A couple of them were up for a song, and came over by my keyboard to join in. One of them sat down and dropped his glass of beer. My right leg was soaked, and I had to move everything quickly so I wouldn't electrocute myself, and so the shattered glass could be removed. I resumed shortly afterwards, and continued playing until nine.
A bit later on some more people arrived, and wanted me to play. I ummed and arred, but I was set up within about forty seconds after they offered me a pint. I continued playing until about half past eleven, and finished off with a drink with people I knew. What a great finish to the weekend.
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