Tuesday, 21 September 2010

Andantino un Poco Agitato

Oh, the man upstairs is an adequate pianist, I suppose, but it's his metronome that really irritates me.

That bloody click-clack, sometimes till eleven o'clock. All through the snooker on the telly.

I've asked him to practise without it, but I'm not as young as I was, or as persuasive.

If my Charlie was alive he would have given him a piece of his mind.

The metronome does have one advantage though, it's loud enough to conceal my work.

It's been hell on my arthritis, holding my hands above my head; first marking out with a scratch awl, then three months working with Charlie's paring chisel, timing every hit.

But I think, tonight, he'll have a surprise when he sits down to his baby grand. He's not a small man you know, and that floor is really not very thick.

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