The Piano Man arrived.
My piano, squatting in the corner of our tiny dining room, is now in a sorry, sorry state. The notes that used to go 'plink' now go 'plunk'. Some notes don't even do that, and go 'bofff' or ' '.
It is most inconvenient if you are a serious musician. You will be sitting there, attempting to sing and play a beautiful song in order to entertain your LTLP and it will go a bit like this:
Hey Jude, don't be a ; you were made to go out and bofff her; remember to her into your ; then you begin to bofff it bofffher.
This is unsatisfactory, especially when she starts shouting 'shutup shutup shutup the baby is kicking'.
It was made by a posh company called John Brinsmead in around 1901 and has had a lot of famous things written on it, the most well-known of which being 'Sally in Our Alley' which, for younger readers, is not a pornographic film but an annoying song by Gracie Fields. Now it has passed down to another celebrity creative artiste owner i.e. me, JonnyB, and I want to do the best by it.
The 'soft' pedal is hanging off completely now, although I've never really been interested in the 'soft' pedal, which seems to go against the whole idea of pushing your piano up against the party wall. Some of the ivory covers have snapped off the keys as well.
This is going to be annoying, as it's now a bit passe to shoot elephants, even old elephants who don't have much of a quality of life and are just going to be a burden on African society, which really doesn't need any more problems according to experts like Bob Geldof and Toto. I might end up having to use thin bits of wood veneer and Tippex.
But first I thought I would take some expert advice. So I called the Piano Man.
Continued on Monday.