As regular readers will know, Tallulah is quite keen on singing.
She has always sung – all the time. In fact, when she was smaller Jason instigated a ‘No Singing Sundays’ rule – to give us all a bit of peace and quiet.
Her style, as an infant, was quite heavily influenced by Vic Reeves and his Pub Singer character, crossed with an unhealthy dose of the Celine Dionesque warbling trills.
It is no coincidence that the warbling trills sounds like some awful bug you pick up whilst travelling in South East Asia on a gap year.
For about eight months, her favourite song was Valerie by Amy Winehouse, which could, if the wind was blowing in the right direction, go on for about an hour and a half.
You can see why we needed a break.
They say genius is 1% inspiration and 99% perspiration, and it’s good to see that all that singing practice has paid off, as her voice has improved by about 4000% in recent years, until we have been able to abandon the ‘No Singing Sunday’ rule altogether.
Singing lessons with the lovely Maria (who I always want to greet by belting out ‘How do you solve a problem like Maria? – and always don’t – but only just), have helped enormously.
Her dad, UE, knows someone in the singing business (he is quite musical himself from time to time), and wanted me to film her singing so that he could, quite rightly, brag about his daughter.
It took Jason and I several hours to wrestle three small films of her onto various virtual platforms last night. It used to be far too simple to do this, so Apple, in their infinite wisdom, decided to make it so counter intuitive you would want to stab yourself in the eye with a red hot needle out of sheer frustration by the time you’d finished.
So, because the victory was so hard won, I need to milk it for all I’m worth. I give you Tallulah, in her shortest dressing gown – singing Naughty from Matilda, not accompanied by me on the spoons.
If my mama bragging rights haven’t put you off your cereal, there’s two other clips of her on there, doin’ more singin’ and stuff and things.