Entertainment.

Not fault-finding, as my previous blog could be labled. That over with, blad-de-blah rubbish.
Anyway- Piano, my only entertainment.
Piano, ill state, broken, had it, on its last legs, bust, kaput, conked out.
(My favourite of the 'Word' supplied synonyms.)
If you would be so polite and enduring as to allow me to take you back some - blimey, nearly five years now – I’d like to create the situation; you’re at secondary school, you’ve established your friends, and they have expectations of you, as you do them. Where was I?Right, so, friends, opinions, and the bloody crap you have to put up with. Music; something that has to be of the exact same taste until you reach 16, unless you’re willing to lie about your taste. Typical, then, that I should like classical music more so than any other type yet to caress my ear. Of course, letting them know as such could only lead to painfully dim-witted conversations such as “Why do you like classic music?” [Notice ‘classic’] “Why are you posh?” Or simply the good ol’ fashioned insults: “Fag”, “Faggot”, “Are you a fag [faggot] or something?”It’s 2Am, i don’t remember the point I was originally going to make, so, I’ll leave it as this for tonight.

2:10 AM: Typing abilities diminishing, ability to spell also fading, imagination “being raped down some alley”. Thoughts now move to bed - bad news – Bed not made, sheets washed earlier...