Demo of an impromptu guitar impro session. Will add stems. Background:

I fancied an apple. I went to the old grandma’s fruit shop and it was closed—bankrupt, kaput, boarded up. That left the supermarket—they sell semi-refrigerated apples from the four corners of the globe, shrink-wrapped in plastic, and at exorbitant prices. I gave up on the apple idea and went for a walk on the ancient city walls. There was a guy walking towards me looking very excited—a guy maybe my age, maybe older, wearing a cloth cap—a local guy: “Hey, come and look at this!” I walked back along the battlements with him when he stopped and pointed over the wall to a patch of overgrown waste ground below: there, among a pile of soggy blankets, cardboard boxes and empty booze bottles stood a slender tree, and on the topmost branch of that tree was a single green apple—shining like an emerald. To my eyes it looked like the last wild, native apple in England.