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Neat, Cloughie... Very neat. Spot of the old Collines d'Anacapri are alive and far away etc etc. Nice thinking
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
Well done Cloughie - no further explanation needed, except perhaps to note that 'The Hills of Anacapri' is the English title of one of Debussy's wonderful Preludes, and that it was Dennis Potter's 'Blue Remembered Hills' for which Marc Wilkinson wrote the score. I had the second of your Delius pieces in mind. We now await an I from U!
Well done Cloughie - no further explanation needed, except perhaps to note that 'The Hills of Anacapri' is the English title of one of Debussy's wonderful Preludes, and that it was Dennis Potter's 'Blue Remembered Hills' for which Marc Wilkinson wrote the score. I had the second of your Delius pieces in mind. We now await an I from U!
Off out I'm afraid - so no can do this evening - I'll happily step in with a J tomorrow.
Actually the "alive" and "far away" were a nod to the R&H and Delius parts... though the wrong Delius piece it turns out. And only because of the nudge from Mr C.
Shall I cobble an I for the evening? I'll donate a letter to Cloughie at some point subsequently if desired
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
A load of cobblers, this... but the brain can't make this rambling puzzle more concise!
Three "I"s for the price of one here. The main one you're after is the daddy - the other two (his son and, eventually, daughter-in-law) take over his throne, in a place notable for Ariadne, Theseus and Nana Mouskouri.
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
Playing the French horn is a lot like throwing a javelin blindfolded - you don't have to be very good at it to get people's attention.
"...the isle is full of noises,
Sounds and sweet airs, that give delight and hurt not.
Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments
Will hum about mine ears, and sometime voices..."
Researching ideas found me looking at corny brass jokes. I found this one:
A girl went out on a date with a trumpet player, and when she came back her room mate asked, "Well, how was it? Did his embouchure make him a great kisser?" "Nah", the first girl replied. "That dry, tight, tiny little pucker; it was no fun at all."
The next night she went out with a tuba player, and on her return the room mate asked the same question. "Ugh!", the girl exclaimed, "Those huge, rubbery, blubbery, slobbering slabs of meat; oh it was just gross!".
The next night she went out with a French Horn player. "How was this one?" asked the room mate. "Well", the girl replied, "his kissing was just so-so; but I loved the way he held me!"
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