After a pleasant weekend, my first job this morning was to prep a rather bad body. It certainly whisked away the good comfort and warmth of the weekend. The most disconcerting aspect of doing this alone, is sometimes one of the eyes open. Albeit slowly, but it still gives an uncomfy feeling. As my Grandad said. 'It isn't the dead that hurt you, it's the living' and how true that is.
Because band was cancelled, I managed to put in a paltry 40 minutes practice last night. It would seem that I will have to do even more, as Tuesday is cancelled as well, as they are preempting more snow. I would fight through 40 foot snow drifts to play!!
Above is my great great Uncle, a chap by the name of Hugh Jarce. Trombonist extraordinaire apart from getting the bell of his instrument stuck in the toilet seat (. Easy done when you practice in the bog?? ) he was a fine player, although he could only play pieces that had the notes on first position as he did not know the other 6.
His life was tragically taken in the Valentines day Massacre. He wasn't a gangster, but lived next door to the shootings and went outside to complain about the noise. Sad!!!!
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