I managed to play Debussy’s ‘Syrinx’ tonight. All the way through. Without stopping at that awkward twiddly bit. And without splitting a note. Not quite at the standard of my 15 year old self but still…the flute’s old…
A, who had sprawled on the floor at my feet, fixed me with a concentrated stare throughout the ‘performance’.
When I’d finished. Breathless (smoking and the flute don’t mix well). I looked down at her and (mistakenly) said ‘Well? What’d you think of that?’
Cool as the icelolly she was holding she said ‘It was good’.
‘Why, thank you, Miss Generousity’ I responded.
To which she said: ‘But it sounded like a strangulated (sic) cat’.
And then she ran off laughing hysterically at what she thought was a fabulous joke on Mum, shouting ‘strangulated cat, strangulated cat’ all the way upstairs.
Serves me right.
Impaled on the thistle 