It was with a heavy heart that I decided that today would be my last African Drumming Class. Over pregnancy these have become increasingly hard to stay focused through and the new development of backache has made them pretty painful. It is time take note of Mcsquirmy and the impact he’s* having on my body.
I thought it would be a fairly straightforward decision, just stop drumming until after Christmas when the boy can be left alone** for a couple of hours in the evening (hopefully) and I can bash things in time to glorious effect again.
It turned out to be not so straightforward to up and leave. It’s been 6 years since I plucked up the courage to go and since then this drum class has pretty much been one of the most stable things about my life in Brighton. I’ve moved at least 4 times since joining, I’ve got married, got pregnant, moved churches and jobs. Still every Thursday evening I’ve hung out with some people who also like bashing things in time and making awesome fat drum sounds. I’m going to miss it. I’m going to miss that slice of Brighton life and the people who inhabit totally different worlds but come together because of our love of rhythm.
Today feels like the end of term, a new chapter is beginning and I very much expect it will still involve drumming and other things I love, but it’s good to stop a while and notice the changes going on
*Yes, he’s a boy. That personal pronoun drop was intentional.
**Clearly not alone on his own. On re-reading this morning I’ve realised that you might think we’re hoping to have a very advanced baby who can be left alone. Before you call in the social workers- I mean alone without the milk lady but with the very excellent husbandface.