Tags: life of fla

guitar

Fritter and waste the hours in an off-hand way...

So the heat wave came and went and the rain returned. Life as normal , then.

Shell keeps harassing me with phone calls, emails, paper mail. Even though the matter is supposed to be in the hands of the Citizens' Advice Bureau. It is so draining, so very stressful.

Lessons have diminished with the school holiday but still almost reasonably busy, a couple of new pupils that are going to make me work hard in preparing material as they are interested in aspects of the guitar playing thing that I've not delved into that much -and they are relatively advanced. This is a good thing.

Had two pupils sitting for grade exams, one was an 11 year old boy doing a classical guitar ABRSM Grade 3, he did very well with a 127 Merit. The other one, a young man in Plymouth who did a Grade 5 classical achieving a Merit with the highest marks I've seen in a very long time. This was satisfying. I do have more problematic pupils that need a different level of attention, though. I also have a little 10 year old pupil, she is about to do a Trinity Rock & Pop electric guitar grade 3 exam, I expect she should do well.

ION, problems with blood pressure, prostate and other things that remind me that time is passing and the second law of thermodynamics spares no-one. But overall well. Have sent the form for a state pension but I already have seen that for some reason that I can't think of there are many years in which NI contributions don't appear as paid so I'm not counting on that. Not that I would want to retire. I'm on Dreamwidth at http://flaviomatani.dreamwidth.org/ -do follow me there if you can.
reddino3

Martes de Carnaval....

Pancakes? I’ve never done it. Martes de Carnaval, Shrove Tuesday, has different resonances for me. In Venezuela, in Caracas in particular and, most of all, in the working class neighbourhood in West Caracas where I grew up, it was a savage day where people would roam around throwing water bombs at you -water, that is, if you were lucky. They also would throw -at each other but also at you, or any passer-by- paint, eggs, soap water. There were always stories on the papers about brawls originating from this and stories like that of the soldier or cadet who was walking with his girlfriend on his way to Naval school or something like that and got ... bathed and in the fight that resulted somebody got killed Somebody told me this still is a thing in some parts of Spain, which we inherited that wholesome custom from (I have to find out whether this is true and where, to make sure I never go there). To see the street battles between roaming gangs of young men in loincloths all covered in paint, egg, flour etc was a rather scary thing. And my dad, who in spite of his strong Italian accent had become far more Venezuelan than I ever was or could ever be, one time emptied a big laundry polythene bag full of water on me while I was sitting down reading. I don’t remember enjoying that much, funnily enough. I don’t miss Martes de Carnaval. It wasn’t Rio, it wasn’t Venice; in Caracas it was more like Mordor. My sister tells me that that hm, tradition has fallen out of use, which makes me glad.

One of these years I'll have to have a go at making pancakes. It is a silly and kind of very minor tradition but I'm all for it, having seen other possibilities. I'm on Dreamwidth at http://flaviomatani.dreamwidth.org/ -do follow me there if you can.