I got up and went through the usual daily routine of museli and personal hygiene. I then sat down and watched some television. It was the sort of television you'd expect for a weekday morning, with the exception of the tennis being covered by two channels. As i began my slow ascent into the world of the wake there was a knock on the door. When opening it sleepily, i found it to be Darren, our eager new bass player. I'm sure i said half past twelve, i thought, as i looked up at the twenty past eleven on the clock in the kitchen.
An hour early, Darren explainned that i did in fact say twenty past eleven and we set up his brilliantly extravigant bass equiptment and began to go through a few songs. It went well and we glided through a number of our songs, Darren slowly picking them up and me making early morning mistakes. Now, another knock on the door, it was Jack. He was an hour late. At least i think he was. They were either an hour early or an hour late, but they were here so i left my confused reverie and setup my old casio keyboard for the arrival of our pianist.
The practise after this went rather well. We managed to play at least two songs without too many mistakes and there were not really any arguments at all, which is good because no one ever seems to win or lose, they just seem to linger.
Not at all un-successful, good. That's tremendously reasuring. Until next time.