mandolin-george

I should have been devastated on that warm afternoon I stepped out of the conservatory balancing my A5 on  chair loaded with strings, pliers cutters, straw hat, radio  and a cold drink to enjoy a warm sunny afternoon as I restrung my mandolin prior to our planned recording session. The sound of wood hitting stone and the slow motion replay of the fingerboard parting company with the body after all these years was accompanied with a serene sense of acceptability and inevitability. It’s possible demise opened up new possibilities as I stood at the crossroads musically, developmentally and geographically  (more another time)