It's the Christmas Fayre at the community centre tomorrow. I shall be notable by my absence.
Actually, I doubt if anyone will notice that I am not there - not as much
as they would have cause to remark on it should I fail to turn up at my "important previous engagement" which happens to be The Twinkles' first birthday. There is absolutely no way I am missing that.
half consider whether I could turn up at the Fayre, join our choir in a short programme of seasonal classics ("Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow") before heading up the A24 to the home of the Middle of the Darling Daughters. Then, sensibly, I thought better
of it. My trouble, as I confided to a fellow chorister in the Ladies loo, is that I have an unfortunate habit of trying to do everything, even when it is patently obvious to anyone with any sense that it will be All Too Much. She knew just what I meant, being
inclined that way herself, apparently. While we were having this mutually satisfying conversation, I was holding one of the loo doors shut as the person within was worried by the lack of a workable lock. Now, here's a thing. I recently signed up for an Advent
Challenge and today's challenge was to "hold a door open for somebody." What I need to know is whether holding a door shut is as worthy an action as holding a door open? Maybe I should do both, just to be on the safe side?
Signing in to Choir this morning was a right kerfuffle. Firstly it was necessary to hand over a fifty pence piece to Myra to cover the session's costs (Myra just hates it when we hand over all our small change, which she terms as "shrapnel", or when
we ask for change of a fiver.) At the same time, Myra was collecting five pound deposits for January's post-Christmas meal. There was also a Get Well card to be signed for our lovely pianist who has broken her wrist and - just to complicate matters still further
- one of the Centre staff was selling raffle tickets in advance of tomorrow's festivities. All on a small square table the size of a card table. No wonder poor Myra was looking frazzled.
Our conductor, the
Redoubtable Muriel, said that those of us not singing tomorrow morning could leave twenty minutes early as she really wanted to concentrate on perfecting the songs in our concert programme. However we did have nearly an hour of enjoyable singing before we
had to make our apologies and leave.
On the whiteboard above the Men's Section, someone had written a list of children's activities ready for tomorrow. These included "Make a Lantin (sic)" and "Entre (sic)
a competition." We all tutted loudly, as those of a Great Age are inclined to do when confronted with basic spelling or grammar mistakes. On a positive note I felt honour bound to point out that the apostrophe in "Children's Activities" was correctly placed.
Be grateful for small mercies, that's what I say.
Usually I might have been a trifle miffed to miss out on twenty minutes of singing but today it rather worked in my favour as I was off to lunch in beautiful
Arundel with three former colleagues. We all started work on the same day thirty years ago this week, though only one of us still works for the organisation, the other three of us having retired in style. There was, as Mr B would have remarked had he been
there, no chance of our jaws rusting; there was indeed a lot to catch upon.
Home again to last minute preparations for The Twinkles' birthday. Double the presents, double the birthday banners, double the balloons,
double the greetings cards - but also double the fun, double the laughter, double the love.
So there is no way I'll be missing out on anything tomorrow.
fact, lucky me, I'll have a Double Helping!