I am uninspired today.

Today my family went to another of the CBC Spring Concert Series. This one was quite enjoyable, probably my favourite so far. The first piece had a guest pianist, and, when she first walked onto the stage, the only word I could think of to describe her, was white. She was middle aged, wearing a white dress that looked like it had come straight out of the eighties. She was very pale with pale, wispy blonde hair and wore transparent, white stockings. The only thing black about her outfit were her shoes, nondescript, shiny, black heels. She played with such ferocity. Her hands must have hurt by the time the piece was over.

In the second half of the program there were three guest musicians: one playing the trumpet, one playing the soprano sax and one playing the trombone. The man playing the trombone smiled, rocked back and forth and nodded whenever he wasn’t playing, never to the music at all, just rocking, nodding and smiling. He was the most amazing trombonist I have ever seen. I watched the sweat appear on his forehead as he played, and his face turn red. He was very animated. The man playing the trumpet stood hunched over, forever like that because of his trumpet playing. He seemed sad to me, but also amazing at his instrument. I didn’t pay much attention to the man playing the sax, but he had a nice suit.

We went to the Red Onion after the concert, like we always do. Erin and I finally tried the milkshakes there. As we were finishing our shared pieces of moose pie, Mr Catherall, his wife and his daughter walked in. We exchanged pleasantries, and then we left. He seems very happy as a retiree, and says that he has been keeping busy making things for their home.

I have finished writing my French composition. It is very bad, but I wrote the whole thing with no help, and I am proud of that.

That is all.