The saxophones had blown it, again. The notes were fine but they just weren’t nailing that rhythm. Two of the main stage-lights had blown and the guitarist had blown a valve in his beloved Marshall. Rumour was that Jodie had blown the bass player, and Rodger felt as if he would soon blow a fuse. Was this the life he had given up glass-blowing for? As he ran his hands back through his thinning grey hair, an electric fan in the wings picked loose sheets of music from his conductor’s stand and blew them across the stage. It was going to be a long tour.


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