I suppose we all have those brief periods in time when everything happens at once. It’s happened to me a couple of times recently but now it’s whistle invasion time.
On Friday, I glance casually into the mail room and there waiting for me in a modest package is a full set of Abells; secondhand, but none the worse for that.
Now, after a busy weekend getting to know my new friends—mainly the D I’ll admit—I glance into the mailroom yesterday (Monday) and there is a twinpack of Reyburn low Ds and a spanking new Grinter low F. Gluttony? Well, I didn’t ask for them all to arrive at once. OK, I know, it’s still gluttony.
You want reviews? Now? Give me a break. I will say this. The Abell D and the Grinter low F are both sensational. But you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you? As for the others, call again in a month when the phone’s back on the hook.
OK, before the offers flood in, I know there are loads of kind people willing to borrow a few of these for an indefinite period, just to help me out. I’m deeply touched but strangely unmoved.
Which way to turn, Wombat? Why, northeast, of course. But since bloomfield’s royal we hates you, I wouldn’t send your ‘overrun’ whistles as far northeast as, um…location, location; the Chicago area is quite northeast enough.
No news from my Grinter low F
no news from my Abells
no news from my postmaid (huh! Do I care? There’s more than one redhair in proud lil’ town Mesquer!)
I don’t hate you, Wombat.
I’m not even jealous, Aussie-pie*.
See?
I’ll get my two-tone pimp o’phone before you doest! Ok, it’s brass-copper, but so there anyway!
And I got my rum-cocobolo/aluminium halftone low Grinterstein low Eb already, you knnnniggget!
* The only thing I’m jealous is you turn these pieces of inert metal or wood into better music than I do, or know
