The day of journeying.

Today was an adventure.

A journey.

A voyage.

A car drive to Bournemouth.

Lunch at Grandma's.

Another drive to Portsmouth.

To pick up a Cello. (It's not as grandiose as it sounds, it was going very cheap on ebay. That's what a student loan and an overdraft are for isn't it?)

I'd never been to Portsmouth before. I think my judgemental gene kicked in. I was starting to think I'd been conned.

As I knocked on the door of the house number I'd been given, I was feeling a bit worried.

I waited.

No answer.

Still no answer.

Knocked again.

Nothing.

Got my phone out to try the mobile number I'd been given.

The curtain behind the door twitched. A hand curled round the folds of material.

A cheery face opened the door, asked if I was G (totally should have used a code word or code names or something, would have been way more exciting).

She showed me the wonderful instrument (well loved, slightly chipped and bashed) and asked if I wanted to try it out.

I've wanted to play the cello for absolutely ages, but I've never played one before, so I declined, so as not to embarrass myself or her. We carefully loaded it into the car, wrapped it in it's bag and some coats, fastened the seatbelts around it.

And carefully drove back to Grandma's.

I then spent the evening strangling a cat with a deep voice, or as it is otherwise known, attempting to play a cello for the first time ever.