Earlier on

I had the workhouse visit. It went well. They are booking me in for something to help the confidence. I haven't been myself since I woke up, but am determined to pull myself together. I must get a job. Part-time is crap. I need something proper.

Lessons

Halfway done. My piano victim has just finished book two of the piano course, which is a nice result. Then we went on to maths, and an introduction to graphs. Great fun.

Weather

It stayed beautiful all weekend, with bright blue skies, but a chill wind. It changed as I carried my keyboard to the pub. I got drenched. Luckily I'd wrapped the keyboard in a bed-sheet, so it was dry when I got there.

Now

Time for an extra visit to the workhouse. I hope it will be beneficial this time. It looks promising. Afterwards I need to go and collect my keyboard from the pub, just before lessons start.

A musical interlude

Yesterday the harpsichording went well. I enjoyed it because there were more visitors. People said very kind things about my playing, however I had hoped that people would show their appreciation in ways more helpful to me.
As for the pub, I can summarise it as follows:

       1st Sunday; busy when I arrived, stayed busy and got busier. People sang.
       2nd Sunday; empty when I arrived, but people came in and stayed. People sang.
       3rd Sunday; A band was still playing when I arrived. I started 20 minutes late. The pub gradually
                           emptied. Nobody sang.

I didn't enjoy last night. I played until 9.45pm with two 5 minute breaks. I felt miserable.

If things continue like that, I can't see it going on after the end of the month. I have publicised each session, but it hasn't brought people in. I don't think I'll bother publicising it anymore.

I'm looking forward to the event I'm playing at on Saturday week. It's going to be mostly harpsichord music of my own choice.

Sleep

On Saturday I had odd dreams again, and my sleep was disjointed. One part I remember is as follows. I was in a fictitious place off the Western Avenue in London (this place has appeared in my dreams before). This time I was on a bus and trying to get to hospital, where my brother was supposed to be meeting me. I got there first, only to be told that I'd gone to the wrong site. I ran across a grassy field and could see the building in the distance. I ran as fast as I could (in real life I can't run any more), and was panicking about making my appointment in time. I got there and rang my brother, who by then had arrived at the first building. That's all I remember, although I remembered more when I woke up on Sunday.
Last night I was out like a light, and only remember waking up once. My sleep was gloomy, and I woke up this morning feeling gloomy.

Saturday

I read some more of the Walford, this time about Bromley-by-Bow, Stamford Hill & Notting Hill. It wasn't a particularly riveting read. Early to bed.