Planet Mad

Last night was one of the most nerve-wracking things I've done in a long time. I felt like a contestent on the Faking It TV show; every question was designed - it felt - to expose me as the sham I really am. Conversation with Neil (the other viola player) went as follows [my thought process in brackets]:

N: So, do you play freelance a lot?
Me: Um. Occasionally. [well - this time's my second time, and the first was back in 1996, but that's 'occasionally' right?!]
N: So do you teach music then?
Me: Among other things, yes. [After all, I *have* covered music lessons, so technically not a lie]
N: What else do you teach?
Me: Economics and Business Studies [phew - back onto safer ground]
N: Oh right. So you're a supply teacher
Me: [pants, pants, pants - wouldn't it be safer just to lie?] Yes, I do supply work.

On the other hand, the actual playing was OK (given that the highest level of playing I've been doing recently has been the school's string orchestra!), I didn't mime too much or come in the wrong place too often. The music was lovely too: I'd not heard much of The Magic Flute, I'm not fond of opera and I'm not a fan of Mozart, but the opera's good. I might even go and watch it as a member of the audience!

Now, though, I ache. My shoulders, my neck, my back, my fingers, my upper arms, my wrists... I am a wreck.