Learning the Bagpipes at College of Piping in Glasgow

I am once again at the library, but it is not a very relaxing atmosphere. I was sitting reading the paper, waiting for my computer to be free, when a semi-homeless woman wandered in, sat down, rustled the newspapers, coughed, threw the papers down, applied another layer of makeup, and then repeated the cycle. I just looked over, and she was staring right at me with her black-rimmed eyes and rouged cheekbones.   And a baby is squalling. (Or do babies squall? It seems like an oceanic word, now that I think of it.)

My right hand is limp. I'm learning a lot of tunes, but still hardly a peep from the bagpipes. This morning, after the teacher wound on some more hemp, I got out a bar, which is my record. When I tried again at the end of the day, I could only do it if I forcibly held my lips to the blowpiece...which made playing rather difficult, as I was then short an arm. My lips are exhausted, and I feel like I could use one of those suction things at the dentist. (OK, strike that image.) I chatted a bit with the American, who had been cheerful, until he admitted he couldn't get any sound out. When I said I suffered likewise, he returned to his natural state, saying, "That's great! I mean, it's not great, but it makes me feel better." It made me feel better, too, knowing I'm not the only one. Hopefully I'll have a breakthrough tomorrow.