I went to the historic building to run through the piano stuff for the last time, and to do a bit of work on the Handel. I didn't want to rush, so I bussed it to the venue the long way round. The wedding do went very well. The Chopin was clumsy in places, but I managed to pull it off.
The weather was still very sultry, and I was tired and hungry when I arrived home, but had no appetite. Dinner was what I could assemble quickly and with the minimum of effort. Thoroughly un-enjoyable too. I could do no more than pick at it.
The people upstairs were shocking bad. The little girl was shouting out of the window at half past nine. Two other kids were still noisily playing computer games at nearly eleven. What is the fucking matter with people? The woman seems to have the parenting skills of a slug. I watched Alfred Hitchcock's film Number Seventeen, but that took a great deal of effort on my part. It was a case of stop, start all evening, with a lot more stop than start. Bed some time after eleven.
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