Me and my pal went into a multi-story car park looking for a guitar for my gig that night.
Because of the virus panic situation I no longer had one of my own, and I had to 'acquire' one (borrow it, I mean) from one of those huge semi-Range Rover monstrosity cars which lined all the parking spaces in the car park.
Surreptitiously we pushed the car down all those ramps, one by one, into a bay at the bottom of the car park. It took ages, and was absolutely exhausting, for verily they are huge brute machines.
I got in through the window and dived down through layers of black plastic in a dedicated musical instrument area next to the dashboard, eventually drawing out... an antique balalaika! Beautiful, worn old wood and intricate inlays, fretwood sound hole, delicate neck...
Bugger.
Not a guitar.
I wrapped it up again, packed the layers of black plastic and we pushed and hauled the damn car up all those ramps and back into its original parking position.
And then we had to start the process all over again.
Luckily, I woke up.
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