It's not generally a good move to play after dinner. It's even worse when dinner includes wine, which it tends to, when the fan is on holiday. Yesterday I struggled on through 30 minutes of failing to recall new tunes. Today I gave up after 10 minutes.
It's not just the recall, it's the lack of comfort: bellows that seem to fail to create enough air, and that hit the nerve in my wrist to make my fingers numb; bellows strap that acts as a tourniquet on my upper arm; bag that crushes my chest and deflates the moment I add pressure. It's not the pipes, it's me.
It's partly having to go to the plot and spend time there before dinner, on days when I'm not actually doing the cooking, so I don't have time and am hot and tired. Partly, maybe, it's work being so bad at the moment it colours my mood for everything else. I want to play, but I'm not in the right frame of mind, especially not after dinner.
Ramblings of an easily distracted learner piper
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