There's nothing like a good, solid amateur classical concert, even if you're not playing in one. There are so many little ensembles around London it'd be impossible to see them all, but I've slowly worked my way through some of them, playing for three and being an audience member for a good few others. Professional music is always the best, but there's something special about amateur music that gives it that little quality.
In this evening's case, that little quality was Mini. Yet another inch shorter than the last time I saw her, there she was in the front row, clarinet in hand, ready to give it a toot away to her heart's content. I was also introduced properly to her fiancé, who I've met very briefly before, but that was at their engagement party, and mostly what I did there was hang around in the quietest corners of the synagogue, occasionally looking for some form of vegetarian food to scavenge. I like this guy, but without discussing the music on the programme, conversation with him was somewhat limited.
I was lost as for what to say while still counting it as small talk. I admitted that I'd known Mini for some time, but didn't exactly go so far as to say, "I've known your girlfriend for ten years now and I remember her when she was still a virgin and not happy about it". I didn't mention her fellating reeds, especially as it was on show for us to see anyway. I didn't mention the concept she mooted of having sex with one's friends. I did, however, mention the hotel they're getting married in. I just didn't say that I've had sex in it. But I said it was a nice hotel. Which it is, so really wasn't lying. Just leaving bits out.
And then I spent a while wondering which bits of the concert programme would make for the best music to overlay soft porn with. I'm sure you'll be glad to know I didn't choose West Side Story... and probably just as glad to know that I'm not in this band any more, either.