Not being Lang Lang

Thank you for all your helpful piano-related comments. Actually, I've just had another little go and it went better. My playing was a touch on the halting side - well, ok, it limped along - but my hands operated independently for much of the time. Not necessarily independently and correctly. But if I made mistakes, they were different mistakes for each hand - which is progress.

I need distraction from the sadness of missing my son and daughter and of dealing with my mother's constant outpourings of her worries. I feel that the only solution is to find something new in my life. Well, there's lovely Grandson, but I can't expect the little soul to rescue me singlehandedly from my slough with his tiny little starry hands. So my retirement hopes - I wouldn't call them ambitions because I don't feel any confidence in being able to do any of them - are to try to learn the piano and maybe, if life ever becomes less complicated (suffiently uncomplicated to be able to strew the house with bits of fabric and to wrestle with a sewing machine - I am not good with machines either) to do some patchwork. Or at least something creative. Which might involve writing something more than a blog. Or might not.

The piano is the only one that I feel I have time for at the moment. The odd fifteen minutes, creating no mess, is just about do-able. And I must say that I quite enjoy it, in a feeble and incompetent sort of way.

I must stop blogging, or at least posting, every day! It's fun but doesn't exactly move my life forward. Though actually, fun is useful for cheering one up.