During our Salad Days (or perhaps our Early Appetizer Days) as recently-weds in Frankfurt am Main, for reasons no longer in memory (perhaps related to the number of empty bottles with the blazon “Mosel-Saar-Ruwer”), the topic of discussion one evening was my short history as a Trombonist at school in grades 5 and 6, and my subsequent apostasy from Trombonism.
At some point, I mentioned the necessity of lubricating the trombone slide with trombone oil.
In a moment of indiscretion, she asked: “Where does trombone oil come from?”
I gave her the “I will love this” look; she gave me the “Oh frack, I am not going to like this” look.
I replied: “Pressed trombone seeds.”
I further noted: “You should not visit a plantation of trombones, when they are in bloom, without ear protection.”