386 – Some Photos, Part Eight
I had the misfortune recently of playing the piano for a wedding. Actually I managed two gigs that day, one on this monstrosity of an instrument and one later on in the evening, about twenty metres to the right of this picture, when people were a bit drunker.
Actually the piano was fine, but I was slightly perturbed by the cream valance around the pedestal on which it was placed. An extraordinarily ugly addition to something way to expensive for the ninety five minutes which I played it for.
During those ninety five minutes exactly no people spoke to me, much like the rest of the day, but five people came into my personal space and took pictures of me.
“Hey, fucking idiot, how about you speak to me or say thank you or some shit like that before you take my fucking picture”, is what I didn’t say. Instead I did nothing, except play a ninety five minute non stop jazz medley. Brilliant. The waiters got thanked for forcing canapes into peoples faces, the least they could do was make eye contact with me. Fuckers.
Ouch.
My don’t-make-me-shoot-you moment is always when the guests (usually drunk ones) come up behind the harp to look at my sheet music. I want an invisible force field.