Sunday, 27 January 2008
Transatlantic Sessions 3, & huddled in by the fire, just out of range of those gale driven Harris beaches, & the rolling thunder. I just had time to drop a note on Murdie Campbell about doubling up to do another unassisted St.Kilda trip before scooting out the door & island hopping North to do another rolling workshop. A day of frantic travelling through snow peppering the Clisham, only to be stormbound. Sometimes sea kayaking is a waiting game involving cabin fever antics. These antics can mean drinking ALL the Trawler rum...by accident. This leads you to believe wholeheartedly, that you are better than Hendrix, or Pat Metheny or any other celebrated guitar maestro for that matter, thus you embark on endless bouts of wobbly plinking...very badly...
Of course, through the duration, you are blind to any screeching, bum notes or loose strings. Aye, those smiles on the faces of the others gathered in the said cabin, are not forced at all & as such, are further confirmation your nimble chordsmanship. The weather has to clear up soon...for everyone's sake.
Of course, through the duration, you are blind to any screeching, bum notes or loose strings. Aye, those smiles on the faces of the others gathered in the said cabin, are not forced at all & as such, are further confirmation your nimble chordsmanship. The weather has to clear up soon...for everyone's sake.
. . .those smiles on the faces of the others gathered in the said cabin, are not forced at all. . . just induced.
I once had a bottle of Captain Morgans Black Label 73% that could make anyone play a fine tune on any instrument!