Just don't be standing underneath

I must say the guitar class is quite hard this year. Jordi is handing out commands, details, instructions, orders, pay attention to your left hand, your right hand, control, control, timing, pulse, rythm. My neighbour "La Voz" is now the caretaker of the community centre and he shuffles around like a giant Hemulen with a real large ring of important keys which he hands over to nobody, so he is upsetting the ladie's choral evenings.
I don't know why these places are called community centres. There is constant squabbling and bickering between the lace ladies and patchwork group, the flamenco guitarists and the percussionists, the admin and the music teachers. The retirees who play cards and drink coffee in the enormous cafeteria allow nobody to pass their door if they are not a "socio". This is tricky because the building was designed by someone better suited to a box of Lego. So the hairdresser, reflexologist and toenail cutter (for the oldies) have to go through the cafeteria to reach their rooms. But it's quite entertaining visiting the centre. There's always something going on...but I have to be careful because Mia now knows of the existence of this blog...