Votre grenouille a mangé mon dejeuner . . .

So I was sitting in the bus last week waiting for it to fill up so we could start our ride home. I had the radio on and a local jazz show was playing Erik Truffaz. He's an interesting musician, a jazz trumpeteer, who likes to experiment with sounds. The first time I heard him was in a bookstore in Toronto - Bending New Corners was playing in the background. I used to visit bookstores a lot when I was there. As soon as I got off work I would get on the subway and head towards the nearest Chapters. They have a wonderful attitude towards selling books; they treat customers as readers and not mere drones to push their merchandise on. The whole store was generously provided with these warm, comfortable armchairs for visitors to sit down in and enjoy the books. The lighting was kind, soft music would play in the background and there were these large bay windows that gave you a panoramic view of the mall. You could just pick a book, find a quiet corner and read until it was time to go home. Nobody would trail you around the store, casting shifty eyes in your direction to make sure you don't sneak away with their stock. The books were electronically tagged anyways so it didn't make a difference. What made the difference, however, was the decadence with which you could sit down and get to know a book before you had to pay for it. For a third-world bumpkin like me it was heaven.

Anyways, so I was on the bus, listening to Erik Truffaz when the song ended and DJ Suzy came on announcing that Truffaz will be playing in Dubai on the 16th of June. The radio station had a few free tickets to give away and if you knew the answer to the questions she was asking, you could go see him play live. Taking a chance, I called up from my radio, which occasionally doubles up as a cell phone (Go, gadget, go!) and found a delightful DJ Suzy thanking me for my correct response and then proceeding to mis-spell my name as she tried to get contact info down for the organisers to get in touch with me. Three tries later, she finally managed to nail it and we parted on a note of happy anticipation of the smoky musical delights to follow.

That was last week. Last night, I got a call from the promoters saying that my tickets were available at the box office and would be handed over to me upon providing the password and necessary blood reports. I am assuming there are two tickets but since nobody I know has the time or inclination for jazz, I'll be going alone. If anyone would like the spare ticket, please leave a message on the blog and we can figure something out. Meanwhile I need to go practise my French. Au revoir, mes amies.