I had a dream last night - about eating a 'pale' flavoured cup-a-soup. I was dunking bits of white bread into it. I didn't taste anything in my dream, so it was just like eating the real thing. Being bored in my sleep, which I previously might not have thought possible, I woke up, made my cup of tea and sat back to listen to Farming Today with a Suduko (easy). I'm now worried about the beef shortage we will all have to wrestle with in twenty years time. I don't know why I'm worried. I'm sure in the span of two decades I can find something more alarming to worry about other than the inability to make a spag bol - thermo nuclear war, the BNP taking dominance over Europe?
I should actually be more worried about my second soprano part in a Barber's Shop Quartet (a dozen women rather than the usual composition). It's quite wobbly - it takes quite a lot of guts to just go for the note. Every so often I would hear someone quite out of tune and feel sorry for them, and then realise it was me. I'm not sure whether I should offer to hang up my song sheets in sacrifice for the greater good of womankind. Trouble is, I've always dreamed of being Annie Lennox, trilling and warbling away, holding the audience in the palm of my larynx.
Perhaps I should go back to the cup-a-soup dreams.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment