Knock…Three Times…And Ask For Joe

I have almost made it to the end of the week. I feel as if I have been lightly run over by a lawn mower, but apart from that survival has been achieved. I do not like to say anything more positive for fear of jinxing things. I absolutely have to keep going until Sunday and then all bets are off. I don’t care if next week goes to hell in a bucket frankly.

This week’s things:

Tallulah has now performed in two of the three shows she is in. It feels ridiculous to say that she is only in three shows given the amount of stress and man hours it has taken to get this far. I feel as if she should be doing a one woman show and touring the country or something, but no. Only three shows. She did very well and sang like an angel for the first two. She remembered to look at the audience and not scowl at her shoes. She did all the dancing things she was required to do and they didn’t look too bad. Victory is within our grasp.

I have spent the week plagued with dreams about the solos I don’t have, and remembering which side of the stage to come in at. I have been waking in a muck sweat about these things and it’s not even me on stage. Tallulah in the meantime, apart from being brutally tired, and having the odd small weep, is doing brilliantly. Thank God I am not Bonnie Langford’s mother. I would be chewing on dried frog pills in the basket weaving department by now.

I have also got perpetual half remembered ear worms for all kinds of songs I just don’t like. Because I only know half a line here, the odd melody there, my brain has decided to fill in the words with stuff that sort of fits.

Hence my version of Be Our Guest from Beauty and the Beast:

Bag of chips, pint of beer, pork scratchings, get them here…

My version of Tell Me On A Sunday:

Take me to a park that’s covered in cheese, write it on a weasel, stroking my knees…

My version of Master of the House from Les Miserables:

Master of the house, reader of the bees, always likes a pickle when he’s itching at his fleas…

and it goes on, and on, and on.

Especially Hernando’s Hideaway from The Pyjama Game, which the cast do as their first number in the twelve inch, extended mega mix for some reason which is still entirely unclear to me and everyone else who hears it. It takes about three weeks to end and reminds me very much of the tango scene in Some Like it Hot. I have no misheard lyrics for this. I just find myself wandering about humming:

‘Der dum, derdum, der dumdumdum…’

PAUSE

HERNANDO’S HIDEAWAY!

PAUSE

OLE!

The kids are doing it. I am doing it. Derek is doing it. Even Tiberius is joining in with a bit of coriander clutched in her tiny tortoise beak.

Haunted. We are positively haunted by Hernando and his hideaway and his golden finger bloody bowl.

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