"Many months ago the band I'm in was invited to play a gig at a literary festival in Greece. The date slotted nicely into our international tour schedule, between Brighton and Plymouth. But it butted up against my already booked holiday; I would have to fly home, spend 36 hours repacking and then fly straight to Greece. Mind you, I'm not complaining."
"I'm just worried about my banjo. The previous evening I'd parted with it in its new, specially acquired flight case at something called Twilight Bag Drop, a fully automated process that gave me no confidence I would ever see my banjo again. Nothing you can do about it now, my wife says, so there's no point in worrying. I don't get how the second part of that follows from the first, I say."
A band member must interrupt a booked holiday to fly home, repack for a Greek literary festival gig, and then fly straight back. Early-morning airport crowds and an automated Twilight Bag Drop leave the musician worried about a new banjo in its flight case. Domestic concerns intrude during the short home stay, including a deteriorating flat kitchen roof and a driveway skip, prompting gloomy conversations with Michael the roofer. The musician experiences anxiety about literary events and odd recurring nightmares about being on a pub-quiz team with Margaret Atwood. The band is the only scheduled musical entertainment apart from a gala dinner band.
Read at www.theguardian.com
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