November 18th, 2004


(no subject)

I had my first lesson with David Pollard on Saturday, November 6, at noon. I think JC was slightly annoyed that I asked for an 8 a.m. wake-up call, but he understands how important this is to me and didn't complain too much. I relaxed in bed for a little bit before getting up. Then I did several pushups and crunches, followed by some stretching. A session on the porcelain throne was followed by a hot bath and a close shave. At 10 a.m., I allowed myself to start warming up -- I wanted Pollard to hear the best I was capable of producing. After 15 minutes of vocalizing, our next door neighbor started pounding on the wall. If he hadn't woken us up around 2 or 3 a.m. with random banging and fumbling around in his closet, I might have been more sympathetic, but I wasn't going to stop vocalizing until I was good and warmed up.

I allowed myself an hour's travel time. Grabbed a lamb and mint pastry at a shop in Covent Garden before hopping on the tube. Took the Piccadilly Line to Piccadilly Circus, where I changed for the Bakerloo Line. Headed north on the Bakerloo to the Queens Park stop. When I emerged, I asked for directions to Montrose Avenue. After ascertaining that it was only a few blocks away, I ducked into a convenience store and bought a cranberry drink. In retrospect, I should have bought water, since the juice got the phlegm going. When I got to Montrose, I figured I'd have to walk all the way down to the other end of the street, since the building I was next to was 63. But a glance across the street taught me about England's peculiar way of street numbering. I was already across the street from my destination, 5 Montrose Avenue -- and I had 20 minutes to kill, so I went back to the main drag and entered a Starbucks to use the loo.

[Why the hell is he telling us this shit? We only care about the lessons and the verdict!]

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