Wednesday, November 16, 2005
Deering Music
Adio' Revoir
I had noticed (and taken full advantage of) the ludicrous bargain sale prices offered by Deering Music and now I see a 'For rent' sign dangling forlornly outside that musicians' haven. Not the only thing renting - my heart rents apiece to see the departure of that treasure-trove shop and its regal eponymous proprietress, Barbara. Imagine my delight back in 1994 when, having evaded the INS, I staggered ashore "somewhere off our coast" to be greeted by the sight of Wally's emporium for my victuals and Babs Deering's for all things guitarista. Sans hesitation, we took a cottage on Blakely Avenue so's to be within walking distance of both. When we moved to the grander surroundings of Chatham Cove, the customer-centric Ms Deering considerately upped stakes and moved to nearby Ericksen Avenue. Speaking of which: "Not at all," I responded huffily. "You, dear boy, are a land-owning Euro gent of the soil, whereas *I* am a Chatham cove." Whence this need always to be reminding siblings of their place, I wonder? I cannot write about Barbara without degenerating into incorrectness: lovely tho' the lady is today, Barbara had in her shop framed photos of her in her 1960s chanteuse days and ... let me put it this way: had I met her in my callow busking days, I would have made an exceeding fool of myself and my repertoire of compositions would include thrice the number of love-lorn ballads. 24 hrs later: I stopped by today to pick up some lute strings for gnarly Narnian minstrel Ted, who will be strolling among us crooning rondels and galliards as we celebrate the celluloiding of Jack Lewis's "Lion/Witch/Wardrobe". Sardines on toast and other goodies will be served with gracious aplomb by a trio of gorgeous young ladies whose dowries will one day return him to penury. A useful press release tells me that Ms Deering is not going out of business but simply changing her mode de vendre:"Bit land-locked, innit?" sneered my Tuscany-tilling brother, gazing round our new abode.
I know it sounds like a circling vulture to profit from another's misfortune (perhaps she's delighted to be quit of the store), but hurry down to 225 Ericksen and snap up a gross of strings and capos and whatever while the rockbottom prices last.
