Once again the past two weeks have been incredibly busy, my diary filled and eventful as a fairground at the height of its popularity; so filled in that there was no blank space or time to fill with my own thoughts. Monday mornings are my worst morning of the week as my head often is filled with dread at the mountain of work that awaits my eager inner workaholic. Nevertheless, after having being roused by the alarm clock that is the dawn chorus - I sauntered into the kitchen. Having a freshly brewed cup of coffee and a croissant for breakfast set me up for the morning of endurance that lay in wait ahead of me. After having suitably dressed, I left the house before the rest of the sane world had even began to stir, and I made the brief walk to my old university.
I ventured into the music department and the recital hall - nothing had changed. I ran a hand over the sleek and beautiful wood over the concert grand piano. I opened the lid to the soundboard and strings, then slowly I lifted the keyboard lid. I pulled out the stool, adjusted it until it was at a comfortable height; I sat down and began to play. The quality of the notes produced by this piano were beyond compare. To say this piano was beautiful would be an injustice and insult to this being of heavenly splendour. After having sat down and played to the empty concert hall with 300 empty seats offering silent applause at every break, I pulled some manuscript paper from my satchel and began to structure out a song which I had agreed to collaborate on with a singer overseas across the pond. My job was to write the piano as additional parts for two songs, and she would write the vocals and lyrics; all of which would be recorded and sent out for release to the world at a later date.
A long while later, after having worked solidly for hours, I put away the manuscripts still freshly wet from ink, locked the piano and left the hall empty and silent as ever behind me.
The early afternoon provided me with a short break for lunch, and a wander around the town centre before I was due for an extra long session in the studio. Lunch for me came in the form of a cheese sandwich I had made the night before and a cheap wrap from an off-licence. A couple of hours later I made my way to the studio, and made my trek to the top floor where the it was located, in an old factory. The long hours which ensued were filled with endless takes of recording and editing and multiple cups of tea and a packet of digestive biscuits. At the end of my time at the studio that day, a suitable amount of progress had been made on a different project upon which I was working on with a producer. Four new tracks had been set in motion and another nearing completion offered much joy between the two of us. We parted ways and I set off home.
When I had hung my bag and coat up, I fell heavily upon the sofa, deeply exhaled and drew a huge sigh. I turned my head to the bag, my thoughts on the many sheets I had to write up in neat. Tiredness had just started to creep up on me, in this the early hours of the morning. I knew coffee alone would be my saviour, save for the exception of digestive biscuits which were my absolute source of energy. Day one was not nearly over quite yet and the week had only just begun - more hard work and endless hours lay ahead.
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