Some of you may remember a television programme screened in the late 70s / early 80s called Butterflies. It starred Wendy Craig as a slightly dippy mother of two hulking great sons, one of whom was played by Nicholas
Lyndhurst before he teamed up with Del Boy and became one part of Trotters Independent Traders.
The family owned several cars and in each and every episode there was at least one scene where the cars had to
be driven in and out of the driveway (generally at some speed) because inevitably at least one vehicle was parked inconveniently behind the car that was needed. I do hope this makes sense; there are times writing this blog when I wish I hadn't even started
on a particular theme. This is one of those times...
Anyway, as a result of that TV series, we have always referred to a need to rearrange cars parked in our drive as "playing butterflies". So many years have
passed since the series was televised that Mr B and I only vaguely remember the origin of the saying.
Since the purchase on Monday of our new car, followed by the purchase on Tuesday of Mr B's very own Shoprider
mobility scooter, I have been playing butterflies Big Time. The scooter is housed in the garage where it needs to be kept on charge when not in use. So far, so perfectly sensible. However if Mr B wants to take his scooter on a quick tip to the shops, I must
first reverse the Grand Old Lady out of the drive, before jumping into the driver's seat of the new (as yet un-named but I am thinking about it) car and reversing that out of the drive. Because we live in a moderately busy road, it is rarely possible to park
both cars immediately outside our house, so I have no option but to irritate my neighbours by parking outside their property. Once Mr B has scooted off to the shops or wherever and back again, the whole Butterflies Routine is repeated in reverse. Or the opposite.
I did love watching Mr B set off along the road on his scooter. It was worth playing butterflies for the sheer pleasure of seeing him scooting free. Whoever invented the mobility scooter has earned my grateful thanks.
I'm not supposed to know but I'm pretty sure the reason Mr B was so determined to visit the shops today was because he wanted to buy me an anniversary card and birthday card. He could have delegated the task to a Darling Daughter but to him it simply wouldn't
have been the same.
Earlier in the afternoon he came along with me to our latest Choir Concert. It would be good, I told him, to hear his verdict on our performance. Always provided it wasn't too critical,
you understand. I was a little worried about our programme, having been unable to attend our Final Rehearsal last Friday morning. I was, as regular readers will recall, celebrating the Duracell Bunny's fourth birthday and it's all about priorities, don't you
agree? I had tendered my apologies in advance yo our conductor, The Redoubtable Muriel, assuring her that I would be practising in my absence. She accepted my apologies most graciously and said she was sure I would. I think I may be be my a Teacher's Pet.
I've never had that honour before so I shall bask in it unless and until someone tells me that I am labouring under a delusion.
My friend Sue,who sits next to me in the alto section and always saves me a seat
if I'm running late, had kindly rung me to explain that the more ambitious arrangements of certain songs had been changed to something more manageable. What's more, the whole programme was, indeed, Subject To Change.
This is par for the course with our conductor; I can't remember a single concert when we have sung every single number we have rehearsed. Today we lost two songs from our play-list, one of them being Linden Lea which happened to be the song I had practised
most for two reasons (I) because it reminds me of school days; and (ii) because it sounds good in the shower. Which is where I do all my practising.
We did fluff a couple of numbers. The Mexican Hat Dance
for one. "We were under-rehearsed!" Maureen complained bitterly as we queued up for a cup of tea and a biscuit in the lounge afterwards. Members of our audience were much kinder, saying they enjoyed our performance immensely and a few minor mistakes simply
added to the entertainment. This, it occurs to me, is a double-edged compliment - but, as you know, I always like to put the very best interpretation on any comment.
We finished our programme with one of my
favourites - "Spread a Little Happiness". I particularly love the line about looking forward to a "golden shoes day." In just over a week, it will be my Golden Shoes Day.
I am getting butterflies just thinking