Return to the Piano

I have a piano. A rather beautiful, if not very good, piano. I love that piano, but I don't play it very often. For years, I have gone back to it intermittently and have been able to play my favourite old pieces with little trouble and less distinction. It worked, for me at least, and I tried to ensure that I did not disturb anybody else.

This became a far bigger problem when I moved into a flat four years ago. I was horribly conscious that the noise travelled throughout the building and that my not very musical offerings could well be annoying my neighbours. I found myself playing less and less. Recently, however, I returned to it on a rainy, thundery evening, when there was so much noise outside that I felt that it was unlikely I would annoy anybody.

Alas. What I had completely failed to factor in to the equation was the reality of ageing, stiffening fingers. Where before I was able to pick up where I left off, now my fingers refused to cooperate. My brain still knew what to do, but my fingers did not seem able to do the things I was expecting. I was devastated. My immediate response was that I would never play again. Now, some days later, I am taking a different view. I have decided that I shall return to practising, albeit during the day and not for too long.

So, if you live in my building, I apologise for the awful noise to which you might be subjected, but I do not want to abandon all hope yet. If it gets too much for you, come and tell me. I hope it is not too awful.

Why Doesn't the Technology Work?

So, today I was doing a second induction day for our new registrars. Last night, I carefully went through my presentation, added some slides, removed others. I was really quite pleased with it. I ensured it was saved in the Cloud so that I could access it from anywhere - I have learned that encrypted sticks are not happy with Apple and I am not happy with anything else.

This morning was a bit of a nightmare. A couple of important phone calls delayed me. I always cut it fine [waking early is not my strong suit] so the delay meant I was late. I rang through, said I would be there soon. Everything seemed against me - the traffic was terrible. Eventually I arrived. The registrars were kind - they did not complain. I plugged my MacBook Air into the overhead projector. Nothing. The screen remained resolutely blank. I pushed buttons at random: nothing changed. I waggled the wires: nothing changed. I thought calming thoughts: nothing changed. Eventually, I took a deep breath, disconnected everything, and started again. Miraculously, something appeared on the screen. We were in business.

The basic presentation went well, but please can somebody explain to me why, when I tried to project a website, the computer resolutely projected something that was not on my screen at all? I am genuinely interested. Please, what did I do wrong? Why did the technology not work? I really tried. I know I'm a technological idiot, but I didn't think that it was that complicated. PLEASE HELP.

A Very Cross Cat

Last week, I had to leave Molly alone overnight. I did not wish to do so, but it was unavoidable. I was leaving home at 3.30 on Thursday and anticipated returning by about 7 on the Friday, so I left her three separate timed meals in automatic feeders, arranged for my cleaner to pop in on the Friday morning and a friend to check on her on Friday afternoon. Surely, she would be alright?

I returned home at about 7.15. Molly did not meet me at the door. I went looking for her. She was seated on the back of the sofa. I went across, tried to pet her. She snorted and stalked off. I found her favourite toy; she ignored it. I threw away the food and gave her fresh; it was disdained. Now, I had had a very difficult day: we had buried a dear friend who had died at the far too young age of forty. I had had enough. If she was going to ignore me, two could play at that game. I took a glass of wine and a book on to the terrace and settled on the lounger.

Molly soon came out. She stalked around, then tried to climb the enclosing cat netting. The message was clear: I'm getting out of this place. By this time, I was starting to laugh. It was so pointed and silly. By my side, I had a table. Suddenly, Molly jumped up. I thought she had come to make up.  Not a bit of it. She glared at me, her eyes enormous pools of disapproval and anger, walked across to the other side of the table and sat down with her back to me. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. She did not make friends again until the following morning. Cats! I ask you?!