I am only twenty minutes early; it could be a lot worse. I don't mind this. Someone is playing saxophone jazz very well downstairs (I am in a performing arts centre). While typing this, I am enjoying listening to that as well as the distant chatter of tap dancing children, and staring at the grubby, empty staircase as I think about what to write next. There are actually some of my fellow dancers in the room next door, but I am too socially awkward to join them. Now, I am slightly let down that the saxophone player seems to be forced to play some scales. A major. G major. Arpeggios. Pentatonic. Diminished sevenths. It goes on. I take a deep breath, but then hesitate to enter the room. Wish me luck...
