The Country Mice

Homeboy was invited to participate in a musical ‘Masterclass’ yesterday, an environment where one plays before and is critiqued by one’s peers.

I dropped him off at his teacher’s riverside house, mentally girding my loins for the ah, feedback I would receive on my return.

My lad didn’t seem particularly peeved when I picked him up four hours later, and over the course of the bedtime routine I gleaned that the class had begun with a chocolate fondue, punctuated by four-cheese tortellini, fruit and marshmallow kebobs and oatmeal cookies. I understood a great deal of musical study had also, in fact, transpired. After all, what else could one do for four hours?

I’ve just received this photograph from his teacher, requesting some feedback on the success of the evening.

Oh that every music teacher understood her charges this well!