Busking it

I didn't do too badly today. Perhaps it was the practice before hand. Perhaps it was the session being small (the band, the fiddle player's Americana partner, a friend, plus 2). Maybe it was having my back to the wall or space around me (it can be very cramped some times). I am wary of picking one of these, fetishising it as a must-have, an "I can't play unless..."

Still, not too badly, as I said. I just let my fingers play what tune they would. We started with Bonnie Galloway. I got a little distracted because I could here the band's (Irish) piper playing a whistle and the notes caught my attention. Managed to pull my chanter adrift (still haven't been brave enough to have a go at hemping and I really must). Slightly distracted, too, by not-quite-in-tune drones.

I played Flett and that went well, but I couldn't bring Bee to mind and judged it safer to stop with Flett. Later on I gave Magersfontein its first outing. On one repeat I lost the plot totally and ended up making up notes until I got back to firm ground.

As we began to pack up I played Home Town. As I started my drones sounded ragged, the pipes thin, and I had a moment of wondering what on earth I was doing, then the fiddler pitched in and suddenly I could hear real smallpipes - just like on CD! - and just played happily.

Much more relaxed today, definitely. No mad pumping, no shaking hands or weak knees, no pounding heart. I just sat, played, listened, as I do when I'm playing alone at home. Someone said to the drummer that he looked to be in a trance when he was playing: the drummer calls it Zen. Whether you call it Zen or the zone or even a state of flow I was almost there, today, almost in that space.