I was speaking with a man at the supermarket today. He asked what I was doing here in America, and when I told him I was studying the harp, he said:
‘The harp! YES! The cello of the opera!’
I have no idea what that means, (as I pointed out, VERY firmly)* but I know that I like it.
I think that’s what I’ll tell people from now on.
Next time someone asks me whether I wished I played the piccolo, I shall laugh merrily, shimmy over their feet with my MASSIVE harp, then tap them firmly on the nose and say, ‘But I do! The harp is the piccolo of the roller disco!’
And then walk away, harp in tow, with a stride far more majestic than fits the situation.
*No, I didn’t really. But can you imagine??
’The harp! YES! The cello of the opera!’
’Nono. That doesn’t mean anything. I think you’ve got what you just said mixed up with something that makes sense. Good day sir.’
p.s. I realise I used the word firmly twice in a very short space. But sometimes you just have to do things firmly, and no other word will do.
Here’s the information on a need-to-know basis:
- My name is Katya, and I’m at the beginning of a 3 month Jazz-Intensive-Study-Program with Deborah Henson-Conant, the world’s foremost electric harpist.
- She was described by the Boston Globe as ’A combination of Leonard Bernstein, Steven Tyler and Xena, the Warrior Princess.’
- This description is disturbingly accurate.
- A few years ago, I never thought I’d get the opportunity to MEET her, and yet somehow…
- I’m living in her house.
- Over 3000 miles from home
- (which is London)
- in Arlington, Massachusetts.
- I’m learning a completely new way of playing
- and I couldn’t be more excited.
- (I’m actually writing this a week in — I’ll level with you, I’ve been putting off starting this blog all week because I knew there was no way for me to avoid sounding like a real dinkus, but such is life! So I’m ploughing on.)
(see what I mean about the dinkus?)