Love is in the air.
I’m not only talking about tomorrow’s Royal Wedding though Harry and Meghan’s nuptials
(what a wonderful word that is - nuptials) have clearly had a major influence on the prevailing loved-up atmosphere.
Even our choir conductor, the Redoubtable
Muriel, has been affected, judging by her choice of songs at this morning’s Singing for Pleasure session. As she said, if we were to add up all the songs on the general theme of love contained in our red files, we would find that they made up probably
90% of our extensive repertoire.
Given that this is undoubtedly the case (believe me, you wouldn’t want to argue with Muriel) it is surprising that she has
chosen some songs in which the path of true love doesn’t run completely smooth. Jock o’ Hazeldean, for starters. It’s of Scottish origin which will please Mr B when I report back to him at lunchtime. Every Friday morning, when I head off
for choir, he exhorts me to sing a song for him: “And make it a Scottish one!” he adds. Mr B is not a fan of Scottish songs on account of not being able to get his tongue around the Scots dialect. There’s nae luck about the hoose where Mr
B is concerned.
For those of you who are not acquainted with Jock o’Hazeldean, it’s the story of a father who arranges a marriage for his wealthy son,
a laird no less, with a lass whose heart is unfortunately elsewhere. When the prospective bridegroom and guests turn up for the ceremony it’s to discover that the bride has upped and away with the aforesaid Jock. “Let’s hope nothing like
that happens tomorrow!” someone mutters, under their breath but loudly enough for everyone to hear. It’s called tempting fate - but I can’t see it happening, not with the whole world watching.
Then we sing that lovely old song Greensleeves, which some believe was written by Henry VIII and begins “Alas, my love, you do me wrong...” Which is worrying when you consider what happened to Henry’s six
wives. It has to be said that being Queen to Henry’s King was not a great career move.
The future of our Singing for Pleasure choir has been in doubt for
some time, since our group leader decided that, after eight years, she was entitled to give up the responsibility and enjoy being simply a member of the choir. Unless someone volunteered to take over the running of the group, it would have to fold. In one
ear I had Mr B telling me to sit on my hands and not, repeat not, to raise my hand; in the other ear, my former Latin teacher Miss Delahay who told us, repeatedly, that a volunteer is worth “ten pressed men.” Tipping the balance, my friend Sue
who suggested that we might, just might, team up as joint leaders? We met in a coffee shop earlier this week and came up with a proposal to put to our fellow choir members this morning which was duly accepted. We were even treated to a round of applause from
the assembled choir, relieved that finally someone (or, more accurately, Some Two) had stepped up so that we can all continue Singing for Pleasure about love, loss and All Things Tuneful.
At nursery school yesterday, the Twinkles Tala and Lilia, had to dress up as princesses. This was no hardship for Lilia who believes she was born a princess anyway - but might have been more of a stretch for Tala (our Diva)
who would have preferred to dress as the Pink Power Ranger. In the event, thanks to an imaginative purchase at her supermarket of choice, the Middle of the Darling Daughters managed to persuade our diva to dress as a Unicorn Princess. “So cute, it actually
hurts...” she says of her two little princesses.
Tomorrow the Trio of Rampaging Rascals are coming to visit their Grandad and me. I’m hoping they may
dress up for our delectation and delight - Faris in his Union Jack bow tie, the Twinkles in their princess gear. To be honest, I can’t imagine we will have time to watch the Royal Wedding on TV, we will be much too busy having all kinds of fun.
Love will, most definitely, be in the air...