Monday, February 26, 2007

This is not PseudoSupermum's day
February 26

Did you read the small print? Too true it wasn't my day. In the morning, I merely had a stiff neck and a headache. Simple - drink coffee, take painkillers, chill out at lunchtime.

I went back to work after half an hour - thinking I would have gained myself time to take off later. What happened?

Cello-Kid dropped his cello.

Not that he told me himself - oh no! - for his phone had run out of top-up. So SuperSpouse phoned and left a message.

"Have you heard about the disaster with the cello? He's had an accident with it." (Visions of a smashed cello, and me trying to claim on the musical instrument cover ...) He's been told you'll know this man who mends violins ...

Could I contact C-K? No. The school? Yes. The music department? No. Their phone was out of order.

Ah well, move straight on to strategy B - finding the man who mends violins (and violas and cellos). He and I know plenty of people in common, but until this evening we didn't know each other. His name wasn't what SuperSpouse had told me. He no longer owned the shop my friend told me about. And his business, differently-named to what I'd been told, was now in a different place.

No problem! I tracked him down, and left work that half-an-hour early, to give myself just a little bit of spare time before starting the evening commitments.

After Viola-Kid's lesson, we went to collect the casualty from Cello-Kid and transport it by Xantia-mbulance to the nice gentleman who mends string instruments. Fifteen minutes later, it was fixed. The cello wasn't smashed. The bridge wasn't broken - it had merely collapsed when C-K dropped the cello face-down, and when the bridge collapses, so does the soundpost...

Back home again, with Viola-Kid plus viola plus convalescent cello. Had a coffee, and now SuperSpouse has taken it back to the Careless Kid. Who will, I hope, have learned a salutory lesson.

So have I. Never completely believe voicemail messages.

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