Zip zop zap

I have cleaned my desk. There is now a clear space on it. I've also lit a candle so I am all ready to start work. Tra la la.

I am having trouble locating Indy and the Last Crusade. Someone must have it, I'm sure. It will just take a bit of detective work to discover it.

So, drumming last night. As classes have finished we have to join the experienced group if we want to continue. I went along with Barnaby. It's a group largely made up of women. Plus a homeopathic man, a French boy, the arty hip man in big black coat and Martin who thinks he's Ginger Baker. Lyn, the treasurer, looks as if she should be judging jam in the WI not ordering new skins. An interesting group.

After zip, zop, zap, bing, bong (if anyone said bing, the rest had to bend forward, arms in air worship-fashion, and say bong), we did body percussion. Slight problem here as it entailed using feet and hands, and brain is not made to cope with more than one action at once.

Then on the rhythm I chose the simplest and still struggled. It will come, everyone says. I hope so.

Boyd is dropping off drums and percussion this evening.

I take back what I said about Linden people taking requests without batting an eyelid. I asked Carrie if she could play some improvised music illustrating childhood, childlike qualities; she said yes. I asked Chris if we could sing childlike songs; he stroked his chin and said, 'what exactly do you mean by childlike?' Some people think too much. No wonder he hasn't got any hair.