Picture
The Time Miser. Resembles a clock-watching coal mine owner...coincidence?!
Now before I start I should point out that anyone who makes me get up early for no good reason is the Devil.

Time
1. A nonspatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through the present to the future.
2. The one comodity you will never get back

Miser
1. One who lives very meagerly in order to hoard money.
2. A greedy or avaricious person.

Its Saturday and its 8am. Jimmy, who will now be refered to as the Time Miser, sends me a BBM to remind me that I need to be at his by 9 to catch the train to Yorkshire.

I hate him.

Once there I see him having a leasurely coffee, and saying that we've got ten minutes before we have to leave..."Well if we've got time for relaxing and coffee surely I could have spent that time in bed?!?!"

We arrive at King's Cross to meet David (the pianist) and Immie (our friend/groupie/nose picker) where upon I find we're not only early for our train, we have 20 minutes until it even arrives!

My hate for the Time Miser grows, like an un-yeilding field of invading brambles.

I seat myself opposite the Time Miser and fix him with a stare. He knows what i'm thinking and affixes a pleasant smug smile to his evil, child-like face.

You see me and the Time Miser go way  back. Having played in many bands together. My philosophy is very much: We're all good musicians and can play pretty much anything that's put in front of us, therefore rehearsals and 'being early' is a luxury we need not afford. While the Time Misers is more along the lines of: We need to be there with hours to spare, even if our saxophonist can only snatch four hours of sleep from the cold night. Everything is planned down to the second with many, other, seconds comfortably padding its sides.

Once we arrive in Starbeck, Yorkshire we meet our bassist. 16 year old Alasdair. This is the first time any of us have met him, let alone played with him. Suddenly we are gripped with fears; "What if he can't play the pieces?" "How can we play All Blues without a bass?!"

These are rapidly put to rest when we start to rehearse, for which we have 5 hours....3 more than we needed. Alistair is not only a competent bass player, he is a great bass player. Certainly a match for those we've played with who are 6 years his senior!

During rehearsals we are met by the rather overly-enthusiastic priest of Starbeck church. Who is sporting a bicycle helmet despite being inside, and no-where near a bicycle. He then proceeds to exclaim "How fit!" the Time Miser is looking. "Isn't he fit!" He exclaims.

The mood lifts as the Time Miser squirms with slight dis-comfort. I hate him and he should not be allowed near clocks as his crimes against time are heinous. 


The Gig
This goes ahead very, very well. Not only are the levels perfect, we can hear eachother, we're all in tune and there's no dodgy echo. Despite it being a church!

I was pleasantly surprised by the whole gig, and would go as far as to say its the best stand-alone jazz gig we've done to date. The audience is having a good time too, with some good wine and gentle chit-chat.

Ordinarily I find talking during music rude, but for this gig it fit well; the place had a more jazz club feel, rather than a rigid jazz concert where everyone must sit in silence and listen to me play C# minor 9 over Bflat7, among other awkward side-slips.

Fortunately this gig was recorded by our excellent sound man, so we may get some CD's to flog to our loved-ones, co-workers and lovers. 

Its not often I find reason to congratulate a sound man. This is one of those times where the sound man genuinely contributed positively towards an excellent sound!


Homeward Bound
After a long night I decide to rest my head upon Immie, our friend and groupie. Who then proceeds to stick her fingers up my nose for the next 30 minutes.
I 1. am too tired to prevent this nasal invasion and 2. quietly enjoying the Time Misers clear displeasure upon witnessing the event.


Wrap Up
All in all it was a great gig, and an enjoyable trip up to the grim North.

However, upon some final calculations I have determined the following.

Time spent on the trip: 12 hours + 2.5 hours at the gig

Time used on the trip: 7 hours + 2.5 hours at the gig

Therefore time I could have slept in by: 5 hours.

Time miser; you are the bane of my existence.


 


Comments

The Time Miser
15/11/2010 16:53

Well there's five minutes I'll NEVER get back.

Reply
The Hippies
15/11/2010 19:16

You're like the Scrooge of grandfather clocks man

Reply
Miser's mother
21/11/2010 17:39


Never get back time eh, Max?
Should have had a look at this while you were in Yorkshire. See if the Time miser knows where it is

http://www.flickr.com/photos/fromagier/2175149398/



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