I stretched and worked out the kinks. I cracked my knuckles and flexed my fingers, working out the dull ache that announced the onset of arthritis that all string players got prematurely. Then I walked over to the table near the office and grabbed some eggs, English muffin, and a cup of joe. Hmm, do they just call them muffins here, or English muffins? I chuckled at myself. After taking a minute to eat and converse with the other travelers, I headed off to the showers to get ready for a day of hide and seek. I told myself firmly, “You will find them.” I headed out into London, with no clue where to start, so I began with the one thing I could control. I called the Factory, leaving my name and number for the owner. I figure if I bug the hell out of him, he'll give my stuff a listen just to shut me up. I mailed off another demo CD to him too. I would make it a daily thing until the man caved. Then I turned and looked around at the huge city around me. Such a giant haystack. Now if I were a needle, where would I be hiding? I'd give my left leg for an electromagnet about now.
