I’d be naked by now if my housemate wasn’t home. This morning I organised a brass quintet with timpani at the service and played french horn myself. Every semi-professinal trombone player in Melbourne is in Tasmania for a brass band conference. You can believe me, because I’ve rung each and every one of them. In the end the director of music found a professional guy. There was also the problem with timpani. I asked my friend Heloise to play timpani, because she’s very good, but she doesn’t have her own timps, so instead of hiring them the director of music found a guy who brought his own. Unfortunately I didn’t get around to telling Heloise (because it was finalised so late), and she turned up at 9:15, causing me to utter a loud profanity in the house of God. In the end the director of music and everyone else were so pleased that she’ll get her money along with everyone else just for turning up. Not bad, huh? For the most part we blew our instruments very hard, the timp guy belted the crap out of his timps, the organist used the loudest, lowest and fartiest stops, and people couldn’t get enough of it. Decibels equals popularity :)

Then... the other choir I’m in sang at a wedding (who gets married on Easter Day? Someone who’s not a church musician...), with a lot of music. After all that I got a lift home thankfully, as it’s a nuisance dragging the french horn around on public transport. Now there is nothing that I have to do, and nothing whatsoever on tomorrow, unless I see Girl with a Pearl Earring with Eden. This peculiar sweet exhaustion makes me want to take off these performing clothes and lounge in front of the television naked, but out of respect for Naoyuki’s right to see me clothed at all times, I’ll just slip into something more comfortable. Maybe ring Marion. Nice.

Here’s an interesting entry I’ve been reading by .

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