Emma Roid

Bang, Crash, Thump, Cough, Rattle, Snore… A cacophony of noise, in a place you are supposed to be resting and getting better?? This was the scene that greeted me when I went to visit our poorly bone player. My God he is braver than me, as I would go round the bend. It just strengthened my case, as from behind a closed curtain; a doctor appeared after examining a patient. Sneezing away they went onto the next case. Outside each ward is an antiseptic hand dispenser…did they use it…nope. Our poor Trombone player has had a real rough ride and like a typical bloke, has suffered for ages in silence. He certainly is in the best place (despite being noisier than Cairo) and after spending ages trying to get through to the Doctor that he was poorly, should now get the treatment he deserves. It makes me so angry that it takes so long for the so-called caring professionals to realise that you are ill. If you manage to get past the doctors receptionist then you have done well. Then when you finally get to see the Doctor he will either give you a sick note. Penicillin or anti depressants cos that is the limit of there training. You have to drop to the floor before anything is done…..as did our bone player, just about. He is a great bloke and does not deserve what he is going through. Get well soon mate.

Tonight was the first outing of my new bone, playing lead. I was well pleased, as my first solo was Song of India and a very high top ‘C’ to start. Strange this and might not mean much to non-musicians. But, every Trombone I have had, I have struggled hitting a top ‘Ab’??? However on this new bone it is a breeze. Pay back, is that a top ‘C’ on third position (with me?) is almost impossible??? I really have to work on this, as the top C is my favourite note.

I may have mentioned, that I have a hat, that bears the logo ‘Invictus’ I was therefore extremely impressed tonight, that one of the audience had taken the time to research what it was all about. I have to say though, that if I was the poet that had written this great poem, I would have changed the penultimate line to ‘You are the Master of my Fate’ (not ‘I’)The ‘You’ being, whatever God you believe in. Because, trust me, we have no input as to what our fate may be. But we can be, master of our soul’s.

I used to throw a pillow on the floor and sit slumped in front of the fire to practice. I realised it was to low and so purchased a massive beanbag to sit on. This has had the opposite effect. As now, my head is almost on the ceiling. I have tried to make the bag smaller by bouncing up and down on it. But this has not done my old farmer giles any good at all!! I am assured, that the beans?? Inside will gradually settle and become smaller??? Unlike my dangly sore friends.