|From a 'murder mystery' evening, but this is perhaps how I am picturing my saxophone playing self...|
Apart from the fact that suddenly, last week, I couldn't get a note from the thing. Now, my 'embouchure' isn't terrific, being a beginner, but I can usually make some sort of sound, and, let me tell you, now that I have learnt B flat I am capable of a mean (if slightly slow) rendition of Puff the Magic Dragon. So - what was wrong?
Something looked a bit bent out of shape at the top of the sax. I had my suspicions, and quizzed the kids about whether any of them had been in to the study and touched it.
"Nope. I definitely wasn't there when it...dropped," Eddie reassured me.
Ok. So we have established that it 'dropped'. Well done, Eddie. Hoisted by your own command of the English language, aged 4. How much Eddie actually had to do with the 'dropping' remains speculation.
£45 of repairs later, the rules about not playing with Mummy's saxophone have now been firmly established. Puff continues to - well, if not quite 'frolic' then perhaps 'wallow'.
Currently reading: The Reader on the 6.27 by Jean-Paul Didierlaurent, translated by Ros Schwartz