leaves a taste in your mouth that's hard to get rid of.
L did fantastically, of course. I realised I was mouthing the words along with her, as though by some fluke my own memory would stop anything going wrong - but she didn't need me. Her first solo, and I couldn't be a prouder sister.
But it was Sherman that got me. This legend of a sax player came back to do an impromtu improvisation in the middle of the programme, after explaining his route from high school to college, and then to his music degree to become a teacher. But all I could hear in my head was my old music teacher, when he used to say to me, "When you do your music degree", or "When you'll get to university, you'll need to know...". That was what I was going to do: a degree in Music, and then a teaching degree, and then I'd find myself in a rural comprehensive with a rowdy year 9 class and the world at my fingertips. But dreams change.
And I guess I just want his blessing, some kind of forgiveness, that what I'm going to do, what my head wants to do, is English Lit. I love English. I love reading. I love books and writing and it's what my head says I should do. But my heart, without turning this into a cliché, wants everything Sherman, and his saxophone, are on their way towards. Tonight just brought that back to me, I suppose.
Back to Litcham tomorrow; a bike ride with K. I miss it.