Myra looks up from her table where she is collecting in fifty pences from all the choir members and tells me, somewhat accusingly, that she wasn't expecting me.
I know I am a little later than normal so I start to explain, apologetically, that I was about to leave the house when the telephone line disconnected. I knew this had happened because simultaneously the house alarm started
bleeping incessantly and a solemn voice from the Lifeline Unit informed me (over and over again): "Warning! Your telephone line is disconnected." It was all I needed, quite frankly.
I have only just started on this explanation when Myra interrupts me to say that she thought I, Loyal Quester that I am, would be going to the Questers Quarterly Meeting rather than coming to choir. I am nonplussed - the Questers Meeting is not until
Saturday, I say, I know this because I have had to send my apologies. Tomorrow I will be enjoying myself celebrating my eldest grandchild's 20th birthday. Sweet and Twenty - where did all those years go?
Myra says, triumphantly, that I am wrong, the Questers Meeting is today, not tomorrow. I decide not to argue, pay up my fifty pence and take my seat alongside Sue 1, in the second row of the alto section, where I notice that
Sue 2, who sits on the other side of Sue 1 (I'm hoping you can picture this) is notable by her absence. Could she possibly be at the Questers meeting? I check my emails on my mobile phone to find the latest one from the Questers leader and, Glory be, Myra
is correct: the meeting date has been changed from Saturday to Friday and I have been sent an amended agenda, too, which I have completely neglected to read, recklessly assuming it must be the same as the previous agenda. I have been Double Booked without
ever realising it.
Our choir conductor, the Redoubtable Muriel, says she is having trouble with her ear-ring. I look more closely to check if she is doing
an Ivanka Trump, wearing mismatching ear-rings - then realise that what Muriel actually said was that she is having trouble with her hearing. Clearly she is not the only one...
We sing "I Know It Is Springtime" - this will be for the last time this year, Muriel tells us firmly. We need to be tune perfect and remember who sings which ending to each verse and, oh yes, why don't we all stand up to sing because we all sing so
very much better when we are standing up, especially when we look up from our red files instead of burrowing our heads in them and so muffling the Sounds of Springtime. Morag on the piano plays the unmistakable tune of the cuckoo calling - we sing our hearts
out. Why can't it be Springtime for a little bit longer - at least till next week?
I have to forego the pleasure of the company of the Bacon Bap Brigade
in the community centre Café at the end of our choir session as I have an appointment with the doctor. This, I reckon, may be a good reason why I couldn't have attended the Questers Meeting as I wouldn't have been able to get to the surgery in time.
Except that in the doctor's surgery I am hailed by my friend Feisty Jean who has hot-footed it from the Questers Meeting to keep her own appointment with the GP. I was missed,
she tells me. Our Leader was expecting me. My apologies, sent for the Saturday meeting, could not be counted for the Friday meeting. Was everything okay with Mr B? There must, she assumes, be a really good reason for my absence. Failure to read the amended
agenda properly doesn't quite make the grade.
But, hey, even I can't be everywhere at once. I will send retrospective apologies and try my best not to feel
too guilty. How sad it would have been to miss singing "I Know It Is Springtime" for the last time till next Spring! Questers Meetings are every three months while Springtime comes but once a year.
Note to self: read your emails properly. You know it makes sense...