It all felt very normal, ordinary people that I spend time with in London anyway. Just for some reason not going home at the end of the evening, because i don’t have one of those any more. Or rather that this was now my home, the wherever I lay my hat kind.
In the morning I went into the Centre for a little while to leave my stuff for the morning while I went out to buy a ukulele case and to spend some time with someone precious. Naturally, in the few moments that I was at the Centre I managed to be asked to perform briefly, by a lady who’d just bought a uke herself. It’s a hard life being me.
The very quick personal packing I’d done when not thinking about where big items were going to be stored left me with a stuffed suitcase, a big green plastic bag of odds and ends and a case-less ukulele. I was ashamed to be carrying Samantha (that’s my concert uke) naked through the streets since we left West Kensington, but she doesn’t fit in the little gig bag I have for Daren (the black, Gibson-shaped uke that I took to the US) and the hard case that she does fit into is occupied by my ukulele-banjo (who doesn’t have a name). So I headed for Hobgoblin in Rathbone Place and we had a mooch through various gig bags and cases. The problem is her hips. Samantha’s quite a curvy girl (it’s one of the reasons I like to keep her under my arm of course!) and she finds it difficult to squeeze into the tiny spaces that sopranos put up with. Eventually we found a hard case that fit her hourglass figure perfectly. Kerchinnng!
After a delightful secret rendezvous in Marylebone I headed back to the Centre to rationalise my bag and suitcase usage, say my goodbyes and trundle off to Kings Cross for the 15:00 to Glasgow Central.