Sunday

My time at the historic building started pretty much as usual, with the Sunday blatherer droning on in the next room. Then the elderly visitors came in and sat down to listen to what I was playing. I was about two-thirds of the way through a Byrd Pavan, when that horrible person came in too. He sat down with the old 'uns and started talking, and much louder than I was playing. I blew a fuse. I lost it. I stopped playing in mid track and rushed outside. I wax so overwhelmed by it all that I started bashing my head against the outside wall. The remaining two volunteers saw me and came over. The man in charge went inside and had a 'polite word' with the man. I spent the rest of my shift in the garden, only entering the building if I saw visitors going in, and leaving as soon as they were on the way out. We had some nice visitors and I enjoyed playing to them.
I went home with a headache and calmed down with a handful of fags. I made a simple but enjoyable meal, got myself togged up and sloped down to the pub.
I had a good night, with people near me telling me what they'd like me to play, and those out the back enjoying what I'd played. Yesterday was mostly classical, and that suited me. I've got a new piece to practice for Sunday nights, namely Sydney Smith's Paraphrase De Concert on Mendelssohn's Midsummer Night's Dream. It's hilarious and looks like it's going to be such fun to play.
I went home at about half past nine, and had some cold leftovers of the evening meal. After a couple of Laurel and Hardy films I turned in at a quarter to eleven.