Sonnabend

I've cobbled together a duo of teeny amps for tomorrow's Vintage Clothing Fair gig. They are so small they will probably have the opposite effect to amplification, and will actually make my guitar and voice quieter than they really are instead of amplifying them. This should be an interesting scientific phenomenon and I will take a photo of it if it proves to be true.
I think I will play at about 12.30. I'll put the dinner on first, then hoof it up to the church hall with a big bag with the little amps in it. My nephew and niece have been staying- I taught him how to make spaghetti bolognaise this evening- and if he wakes up in time tomorrow I will teach him some chords and he can strum along on his left-handed guitar. He also plays trumpet but he hasn't brought that, more's the pity. That would make those cool vintage shoppers leap out of their Betty Barclays! (pardon the vintage-shopper in-joke).
We drove round all afternoon trying to ice-skate. The queue at Alexandra Palace was massive and it was bitterly cold, so we went to Parliament Hill Fields because it said on the Internet that their open-air rink was there today, but there was no ice to be seen, so we went back to Alexandra Palace, only to find they had no skates left in our sizes. I had been entertaining them with stories about me falling over backwards and learning to prevent that by skating with my chest and bum poking out so I look like a stupid duck, so this was a disappointment for all.
They are comfortably seated at the Odeon now with a bag of toffee popcorn, watching the new James Bond, while I wait in trepidation for 25 school kids to turn up to celebrate a birthday here. Don't ask- it's complicated! My ban on Singstar has been over-ruled, and I'm just hoping the journey back from Pizza Express takes them as far as the eleven o'clock curfew when the carriages appear to take them home where they will turn back into mice, pumpkins, &c
Where's my guitar? I feel the blues a-comin' on.