Our Easter break from band practice has fallen at exactly the right time for my move - our new term started this evening. I wasn't sure my over-used hands would hold up for 90 minutes' playing but they did, even though my fingers felt like parsnips.

The teacher who told me 54 years ago that I didn't deserve my great-grandfather's violin was absolutely right - its lovely mellow tone makes up for so many of my mistakes and I just love sitting there listening to the sound it creates from my inadequacies. I doubt I'd have gone back to playing if it had been a less interesting instrument but as it is I have improved (a bit) over the last four years.

Oh, and the delight of cycling to practice without needing bike lights! By the end of term I won't need them to cycle home either.