Band Aid

So Tuesday 22 April is Band Day. I don't know as yet whether it'll just be two of us (guitars) or all four (add drum 'n' bass) playing tonight, but hey, whichever's fine. I feel very positive about this experience. Irrespective of how it turns out, I'm chuffed that The Project has furnished me with this opportunity to progress towards Rock God... hood... ity...!? If I had stuck around at home, noodling away and not 'doing this', well, I'd still just be a bedroom noodler. Many thanks to whoever invented blogging! I salute you (and your countless millions of dollars).

Today did NOT start out well, though. At around 3am I was awoken by a screeching noise, emanating from the alarm clock. Even now I don't know what had gotten into it. Satan? Suffice to say that a) it was enough to wake me up (though Oscar, the fearless guard cat, slept through the whole episode) and b) I was not happy about it. Somehow I wrestled the stoopid device into submission, stared at the ceiling for a while, then drifted back to sleep.

When the real alarm went off I rose, showered, dressed and headed out the door. Today was going to be a big day for me. As I walked down the hall I glimpsed the wall clock out of the corner of my eye. The hands were in the wrong place. It read an hour early. D'Oh! No wonder it was so dark outside! I realised, too late, that I must have accidentally changed the time on the bedside clock when it went crazy in the night.

Feeling grumpy, tired and harassed I went back to bed and spent the next hour watching the minutes tick by on my latest mortal enemy. "Supreme accuracy with a comforting night-time glow" my a**e!

At least my daily bus, train, train, coach journey to work went without a hitch.

To treat myself, and to try to restart the day properly, I decided to invest in a cup of coffee... a tall, steaming cafe latte. All was going to be good with the world after I'd downed that bad boy. I'd do a decent day's work, catch the train, go play some guitar.

That was when disaster struck. As I got to the till and reached into my pocket for some change I felt that 'oh no' sensation of the paper cup crumpling in my fist, the lid exploding skywards.

Yes, dear reader, for the second time today I took a shower, this time in hot foamy milk and espresso. Not only that, but I also managed to soak everything within a 3 foot radius, including the till. Our ever-dour canteen server didn't even have time to mutter her daily mantra of 'Oh no, here comes Trouble' before the decks were awash with caffeinated slop.

I'm surprised she let me off with a simple frown and tongue clucking. Her pills must have kicked in. Oh well. No harm in the long run. The stains probably won't even show on my £10 sale jacket from Target (Branson Missouri Outlet)!

I'm nervous about this evening, but in a good way. It's going to be a good experience. With luck my fingers will work, my brain will rise above the fog it's in at the moment, I'll use my ears and pay attention.

Last but not least, I want to make sure I have fun.