The Chai-latte in my hand is scolding, but I drink it anyway. There is something soothing with the warmth that I can’t really explain.
It has been a terrible day. The morning was lovely; I woke up on my grandmother’s sofa, showered and ate breakfast before I sat down with a great book. Afterwards I had a violin-lesson in another town and had to take the train. The train was 45 minutes late, and this is where the problems started. My grandmother, the darling, drove me all the way to my teacher and I got there on time. Then, when I am to open my violin-case, it is locked, and the keys are at my grandmothers. My teacher let me use her violin, but tomorrow I am trying out new violins, and for that I need my own bow.
Now I am sitting at the train station, waiting for a train back to my Grandmother to get my keys before I can go home.
The music turns, and Sibelius violin concerto, second movement soars through my earphones. It’s nice to listen to, but it also reminds me of all the work I have to do so I switch. Mendelsohn’s violin concerto, Mozart’s, Tchaikovsky’s, and so on. In the end I shut of the music and close my eyes. It has been a terrible day, and now my tea is cold and I am late for the train.