Ramblings of a nonagenerian (vintage 1923). Grew up in Lambeth in the 20s and 30s. Lived and worked in London during World War II. I have been attempting to do the Telegraph Cryptic Crossword since 1939! (My daughter says I *have* to write this, but I am troubled as it sounds so conceited.) I bought my first computer aged 85 and am continually frustrated by the vagaries of the technological age.
Monday, 11 February 2013
Music Practice
My son tells me that my nine year old grandson is doing well with his violin lessons. My daughter learned to play the violin at about the same age and went on to join a Youth Orchestra and to play for the Folkestone Folk Dancers.When I lived in Sandgate in Kent a ceremony was held every Armistice Day at the War Memorial at the bottom of our road. After an abbreviated morning service at the Parish church the congregation would process to the Memorial led by the Vicar and choir. Following them were the churchwardens and sidesmen, of whom Don was one, then the members of the British Legion, the Scouts and Cubs and my Guides and Brownies. We would be joined by members of the Congregational church and local people. The Vicar would hold a short service and after a hymn the Last Post would be played, somewhat tremulously by George, a Boy Scout. The point of this story is that George , for a few days at the beginning of November, would go into the woods behind our house and practise his piece on the bugle. A learner on the musical instrument is not always the most popular member of family and neighbours. Don was heard to say to our daughter " Very nice, dear. Why don't you go up in the woods and practise with George?".
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