My cornet is well oiled and ready to go, in fact the only problem is a slightly dented bell-end, and my cornet is a bit beyond repair too (only joking, it will effect the sound a bit). I am still somewhat nervous about taking part in a marching band again, after twenty years, but I'm sure it will be tremendous fun. The rest of the time spent on the mainland will be taken up with pursuing my Shetland quest for sausages, Barbara (our nominal host), will hopefully have some frozen pork for us to take home and Globe Butchers in Lerwick always have some good stuff. I realise that I will almost never become a shining light in the world of brass but I may sparkle somewhat for a moment in the land of sausage.
Trepidation and nervousness is growing with my fellow travellers, particularly Beth. I have checked the weather forecast, especially the shipping forecast for the next few days. It is peculiar that the general weather forecasters, the Met office I mean, seem confident to spout general theoretic nonsense on the likelihood of conditions for days, in fact weeks ahead. But, and I can start a sentence with a BUT, it seems that whenever a serious situation is concerned i.e. shipping, no serious prediction is made more than 24 hours in advance, worth a thought.
Writing, that's yet another serious consideration, my writing has stalled, again. I know where I need to be with regard to the sausage trail but I am, as usual, somewhat behind with the schedule but only by a few weeks. My novel, on the other hand is months behind.
Well time for bed. I've been told.