Singalonga Max
Mum was on top form. I’d bought her Singalonga War Years with Max Bygraves for Christmas and she was listening to it.
“You’ll never know just how much I love you…” warbled Max, and Mum suddenly shouted:
“Because you never bloody told me, did you!”
“Who are you talking about, Mum?” I asked, when I’d stopped laughing.
“Max Bygraves,” she said. “When we worked together.” Hmmmm. Okay…
I offered to sing for her. She found the idea bizarre, then said “Well, alright, if you need to practise, you can.”
So I put on my backing tracks and sang while I did the ironing. “‘It had to be you…'”.
Then Avril arrived.
“She’s here,” Mum said, jerking her head in my direction. “I don’t know what she’s doing. We don’t get on. Never have.”
I protested. “We’ve just been getting on very well. I’ve been singing for you.”
Avril, impressed, asked me to continue. So I did. “‘Some day he’ll come along, the man I love…'”
Mum lasted about a minute, then started up. “She’s always singing,” she said, talking over the top of me. “Been on the stage and everything. How are you getting on, Avril?”
And that was that. I continued bravely for a while, singing quietly so as not to disturb their conversation, until Avril addressed me directly. Something about ironing…
Ah well, y’can’t win ’em all…
