summering by katharine eastman

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Another solo piano one. Best one so far - I really think so. Rather enjoying these - feel I'm on a roll, and therefore feel no urge to get off this pleasurable train ride. Few out in the world seem to agree with me - and that seems like another good reason not to go out into the world too often.
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Having said that, I do seem to be going out rather a lot now. Yesterday we went to Barton On Sea and then on the way back my girlfriend thought it'd be fun to pop into The Pig on the edge of Brockenhurst just to have a snoop around - she'd heard on the radio that they have pigs there and a wonderful kitchen garden and bees (oh swoon).

In spite of age making me decreasingly care what other people think, I do still seem to be missing a layer of skin. But my girlfriend makes up for it by having several extra layers and she is totally unembarrassable. Me, on my own - I would need a good reason to just march into what basically looks like someone's large private house. But her, alone or with me, just laughs and encouragingly jollies-along all human impediments and does what she wants - living fully on the belief/truth that very few people will attack you or shoot you or actually be horrible in any way whatsoever. Most people are okay - and many are much better than okay.

We marched about and found the reception desk and on a whim booked a meal for the next available slot (September) and looked at the old rugs and paintings and stuff and then stepped out again into the beautiful early-evening sunshine of what felt like the first day of summer, looking at the millions of tadpoles and the beautiful rows of small veg and the quails and yes the pigs. The staff are young and beautiful and every bit as cheerful and helpful and friendly as ourselves. The customers/visitors/guests (present company excepted of course) were that embarrassed and embarrassing strain of new-rich which we Brits cannot carry off very well and which make this tired old (basically-)socialist rather nostalgic for "old money".

But best of all was the sudden view of half a dozen beehives and the breezy drift of the bees themselves slowly rising and falling from the slit entrances. I got close - I had to - I always do - this was the first time that day when I was the braver of us two - for there is nothing to fear - really almost nothing ever.

Back here I had to make this album - it took me way past my normal bedtime, and playing all night it sounded quite beautiful. I have discovered that it doesn't matter where you start playing this kind of stuff - the start, the middle, towards the end - the first five minutes are always the weakest. Like life coming out of lockdown, you just need to weather the early stages with good cheer, and then everything becomes so much easier and well worth it.

And finally, in spite of remaining the most obscure of all Bandcamp's musicians - currently languishing at 6 followers - but what beautiful followers you all are - my albums are starting to average around ten-plus downloads each. I don't expect anyone to pay for my music - all the pleasure I get from it comes from making it, and a few quid here or there at the end of the month/year/decade/life makes no odds at all.

But you only need to do the maths - I'm averaging making one album per day, so pretty soon I'm on a collision course of 300-ish downloads bumping into my 200-free-download-monthly-limit thing. If things go on as they are then it'll be about a week or so till the moment of crisis - and only then will we see what we will see. Hopefully I shall burn out within the next week - I can't see/hear myself wanting to evolve musically any further than albums like this. So maybe this is building up to a big imminent Stop sign.
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(recorded last night, photo The Pig, Brockenhurst, yesterday)
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