I don’t believe I’ve ever mentioned Lofty on here before. Lofty is an interesting person who can often be found strolling around Corsham and who is often under the influence of alcohol. It’s always a pleasure to bump into him and have a small chat. Unfortunately, I don’t know his real name, but Lofty, his nickname, is what I’ve heard him called the most. One day, I, along with my friends Ben and Dalfino, happened to bump into him.
Dalfino, as regular readers of my blog will probably know, is quite a musical person, and at the time he was learning to play the violin. The three of us were sitting on a bench and Dalfino decided he would get out his instrument. Seeing the instrument, Ben decided to take it and see whether he’d secretly been an expert violinist all his life without knowing. Just as Ben had the violin in his hands, Lofty approached us and started talking.
Now, Lofty can be hard to understand at times, so I can’t know exactly what he said, but the first thing he spoke about was his father who was a beekeeper or something similar. Lofty often talks about bees and beekeeping and I’m pretty sure he’s always talking about his father.
Anywho, once Lofty had finished regaling us with tales of his past, his attention was drawn to the violin.
“Oh, so you play music do you?” he asked, in his slurred way.
“Nah,” said Ben, “this is Dalfino’s. I can’t play at all.”
“Oh, he’s just being modest,” said Dalfino, a hilarious prank brewing in his mind, “Ben’s a really good violinist. He’s performed in front of large audiences loads of times. He’s even been in Carnegie Hall.”
“Oh! Well, play me a tune then!” said Lofty.
“But I really can’t!” said Ben, laughing a lot.
“Oh, come on, I’ll give you money!” Lofty pulled a pound coin out of his pocket.
Ben, not wanting to distress Lofty, tried to play. Unfortunately, he just made a horrible noise, it sounded like he was hurting the poor violin.
“Alright, alright,” said Lofty. “That’s enough of this. Don’t be silly play a proper tune!”
Ben tried again, and failed. Lofty was beginning to become unhappy about not getting to see a performance.
Dalfino, who had been enjoying the chaos caused by his prank, decided now to step in “Nah, really he’s never played before,” he said. “The violin is mine and I’ve only had one lesson, so I can’t play either.”
“Come on, please, somebody just play something for me!”
Nervously, Dalfino played the only tune he knew, which was a very basic one indeed.
“I guess that’ll do,” said Lofty; he gave Dalfino the pound and then left, only mildly musically fulfilled. And so, with that, Dalfino had moved from a mere amateur musician to somebody who actually earned money from his work.
