Sax-Starved Sehnsucht

didn't get time to play my little Yani today. Went in to Langham Arts a bit earlier than usual and stayed later because of the Fixers' meeting as I'll be in later than normal tomorrow.
kept thinking about it though!

I've got my first lesson [proper] with Sophie tomorrow, down in Greenwich at her place, fairly near Trinity's new site.

It's odd thinking of Trinity on a different site - all those TCM students who'll never know the joys of the Blandford Street Annexe - scene of those wonderful moments of breakthrough and revelation in practise and of inspiring instrumental lessons scene of hours of hard slog, frustrating disappointment, tears, arguements, rifts. Venue for the smoking of COUNTLESS cigarettes, in its latter 4 or so years in the smog-filled smoking-room (also scene of many a profound discussion and setting-the-world-to-rights). Place of day upon day, after day after day of waiting for a room, waiting to get on the list - not to mention the waiting on the doorstep, trying to suck warmth through hands and gullets from a HUGE bucket-size polystyrene mug of tea or coffee bought from the cheap'n'cheerful Hubbub or being arrested mid-flow by the ringing of the bells in every room to call down the late-night denizens, those of us who SQUEEEEEZZZZED every last drop out of the day and out of ourselves.
Of Mike, the hard-drinking organ-playing, well-travelled, chain-smoking uniquely-unforgettable character who held sway over "The List"for years and had a taste for young students until being reminded of how much he loved his wife when she was diagnosed with breast-cancer.
Of Ann - formidable, with a heart of gold and slight penchant for tacky romantic novels where Jilly Cooper's offerings were the literary burning torches. She gave me my caffetiere, and we had a great arrangement whereby I went to buy coffees from the Seattle Coffee Company downstairs, which eventually became Starbucks, and she paid! She lived in the Annex Flat - and when it was perishingly cold or snowing or angry clouds were pelting the huddled queue on the doorstep first thing in the morning she'd come down and let the faithful few in earlier than she was meant to, then locked the door behind us until the officially appointed time!
Of Diana, her bun evolving into a braid, a ponytail, and even sometimes a curtain of greying but still attractive hair as she became less shy and more relaxed, before being poached by the College authorities over to the main Reception in Mandeville Place.
Of the illogicaly numbered random selection of assorted rooms in varying states of ramshackle-tumbledown-disrepair and no apparent plan to the layout of the winding corridors.
We loved to hate it, we annex dwellers. It's sad to see it being turned into faceless "luxury flats". I bet there'll be some interesting spirits (if such things exist) haunting those rich new members of the Marylebone Village community.

I digress.
looking forward makes you look back, I guess.