Bagpipe Progress
So I'm coming on to three months of sitting on the back porch playing scales and scales and scales and scales and SCALES and mangling Amazing Grace, Scotland the Brave and the The Green Hills of Tyrol and I'm pretty pleased with myself, I gotta say. That low G has finally worked itself out and I get it most of the time. Grace notes are, quite frankly... weird, and... challenging, yeah, lets go with challenging and did you know that if you blow too hard nothing happens at all--except possibly your face goes purple?
It took two weeks to get a grownup chanter and that took a while to get used to since the notes were even farther apart than the kiddie chanter, but so far the dogs have not gotten it, I haven't misplaced it, dropped it, spit food through it, broken the reed (ok its plastic that may be why.), or gotten bored and or frustrated and stopped playing it. Go me.
And I have a plan.
Part 1: Be marching with the band (not necessarily playing but marching) by Robbie Burns Day in January.) Maybe sooner, I may not be able to wait that long.
Part 2: Be playing and marching with the band by Tamworth's D-Day memorial in June. Doable. And then buy my own pipes. Expensive but I've been saving since I started lessons so... doable.
Part 3: Have Amazing Grace down fluently to play at Uncle Albert's graveside next July on the anniversary of his death. Doable.
Part 4: Play my own pipes fully kitted out in memory of Granny and Mum at dusk somewhere romantic and cool like a hillside. Play it for Mama. (Who is still alive and I don't even know if she likes the bagpipes but I know she will be nice to me about it.) Doable.
Part 5: Become Pipe Major. Ok that'll take a loooong time, but hey, I'm patient. Yeah, ok, I'm not patient, but I will be. This time. Really.
Doable.
It took two weeks to get a grownup chanter and that took a while to get used to since the notes were even farther apart than the kiddie chanter, but so far the dogs have not gotten it, I haven't misplaced it, dropped it, spit food through it, broken the reed (ok its plastic that may be why.), or gotten bored and or frustrated and stopped playing it. Go me.
And I have a plan.
Part 1: Be marching with the band (not necessarily playing but marching) by Robbie Burns Day in January.) Maybe sooner, I may not be able to wait that long.
Part 2: Be playing and marching with the band by Tamworth's D-Day memorial in June. Doable. And then buy my own pipes. Expensive but I've been saving since I started lessons so... doable.
Part 3: Have Amazing Grace down fluently to play at Uncle Albert's graveside next July on the anniversary of his death. Doable.
Part 4: Play my own pipes fully kitted out in memory of Granny and Mum at dusk somewhere romantic and cool like a hillside. Play it for Mama. (Who is still alive and I don't even know if she likes the bagpipes but I know she will be nice to me about it.) Doable.
Part 5: Become Pipe Major. Ok that'll take a loooong time, but hey, I'm patient. Yeah, ok, I'm not patient, but I will be. This time. Really.
Doable.