At dawn or thereabouts I fell into Rymans to buy a printer cartridge.
The job in hand is to edit an article down from 8000 words to 7000 words and update it; deadline 15th January. I printed it out and started to scribble on it, slashing and burning, then fired up the computer to start the actual work.
A faint voice called from the other room. What was that?
I went in to investigate.
The guitar was casually lying on the chair, just looking a bit under-used; not any fuss or anything.
A half-written song was quietly breathing on paper beside it, trying not to draw attention to itself; it needed another verse, and the song needed a structure before it could survive another day.
'Only a couple of minutes', I called through to the kitchen, and picked up the guitar.
In excitement, it gave me another chord in the sequence.
'Cluck!', I thought, with an 'F'.
What could I do with this?
Oh, a cheesy major-seventhy song is on its way!
The article lies forlorn on the kitchen table, scribbles tangled up in distress. Tomorrow morning! Tomorrow morning! Just let me finish this song.....
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