The Silver Trumpet Brayed

Andy - if you're reading this, I've tried to e-mail but your usual address is bouncing back. I'll post this here and leave it until you've read it then erase it:

Just in from playing B**thoven 8 and 9 on natural h*rns - nice concert though very difficult on hand h*rns. Most of my solos went okay, but the conductor managed to fool me on one entry.

Anyway, I turned up this afternoon for the rehearsal, the 8th symph*ny first, then the 3rd and 4th horns arrived and tagged onto the end of the line for the 9th symp*ony. Everything went okay and three of us went for some tea at a local grease seller's shop. I asked who the third h*rn was - "Oh", said D*****, "he says you know his mother".

Now this was weird - I had no idea who it could be - I didn't know anyone who had a horn playing son whose son I didn't know. We met up in the cafe and as soon as I saw this lad, (I couldn't see him in the section when we were playing) I recognised his mother - he looked just like her - it was X*******, a girl I used to be in love with when I was about 19. She was a lovely lass and we spent a lot of time together - we got on like a house on fire until she met up with some tromb*ne player and married him.

In a h*rn section we are all equals and all the same age so it was really weird having this guy in the section who was the son of someone I'd all but been out with. The worst thing was that when he asked, I couldn't really give him any dirt on what his mum had been like when she was his age - X***** was lovely, one of the nicest lasses I know.

Anyway, the five of us and a couple of hangers-on spent the hours after the concert in the college bar and managed to entertain each other until people had to leave. Eventually I got a taxi home.

It's nearly 1.00am now so I need to sleep.

Cheers,