You may recall that Tallulah was due to sing at a concert of Christmas music at the local church last night.
There was no bell related fighting with her arch enemy. In fact, everything went smoothly, and it was most enjoyable. She sang a couple of duets with her friend, and then did a solo piece.
I will try to get her to sing it for me this week and film it, so I can be all big headed about the fact that my daughter has a lovely singing voice. It will make a change from tales of diary related melt down and festive pessimism if nothing else.
In other news:
I booked a dental treatment for Tilly on Thursday. I was hoping I might be able to somehow juggle it into these last two days, but that would be too convenient, so Thursday it is. If she does anything daft over Christmas I am going to get written permission from the dentist to pelt her with lumps of coal and lock her in a cupboard until the middle of January.
I have rediscovered the delights of the foam banana, thanks to Nicki, who got some for the sweetie bags at the Christmas discos. I have been craving them ever since. I succumbed to a bag from the Co-op yesterday and steadily ate my way through them at a vast rate of knots. I spent large parts of the day smelling of banana, only drowned out by the tomato and onion salad I hoofed down unwisely before going to a carol concert to sing and breathe over everyone. I bet Gary Barlow doesn’t do things like that.
I tweeted about my foam banana revival. I have had nothing but positive replies from many people. I believe that it is one of the, usually, unsung heroes of the sweetie world. I think, that were I to stand for office which relied upon voting by the public, if I filled my pockets with foam bananas and discreetly handed them out, I would win in an unprecedented landslide victory.
I have decided to say yes to more stuff next year. Not necessarily more responsibilities, just stuff. I took up pilates this year against my better instincts and really ended up enjoying it, ditto carol singing. I wonder what else I might like if I were to say yes. To that end, the delectable Rosella, my bendy and gorgeous pilates teacher, has asked me if I’d like to try flamenco in the New Year. I have said yes. I feel that I am probably letting myself in for a world of humiliation, but I am saying yes anyway.