Poetry in Motion

Excellent night out at pub. Bar-maid Elaine and Trevor's double-act reach new heights. After wrestling with ghastly Cleopatra style fringe, I manage to get ready and we set off to walk the 20 or so yards to the pub. Music is floating out, and we find the place is not exactly packed, but moderately full. Man with guitar is singing to backing tracks, but unfortunately is failing to engage the audience. Needs to play stuff we recognise, and does so intermittently, but like so many of these acts is prone to moments (nay- hours) of self-indulgence. He warbles some songs which even I, (as a dedicated fifties and sixties musicologist) have never heard before. Needs to get people singing along, but obviously can only do this if know the words. Eventually Elaine comes out from behind the bar and advances towards Trevor, who steps back in mock horror exclaiming, 'Poetry in Motion'. They proceed to slow dance together, with Elaine fluttering her eyelashes and gazing into Trevor's face in besotted fashion. Everyone is in stitches, and then Trevor, gazing back at Elaine, says, 'Your eyes are just like my ferrets', which produces a howl of laughter. They carry on in this fashion, and are very very funny. Sometimes I think they should be booked as a comedy cabaret, it all seems very spontaneous. He insults her, she responds in spades, and so it goes on. Honestly, you have to be there. Later on I had a jive with Trevor, which again was a little jerky, as I'm never sure which way he's sending me. Two is sitting yawning over his pint of Guiness, but is
laughing a lot at the banter in between yawns. Finally get home at around 1.30!

Must report on visit Down South to see eldest daughter, and grandsons. Took train from Derby as do not like driving on motorway. Was greeted with heart-warming enthusiasm by Gregory who is five and a half, and Louis, who is nearly three. The next day, took them to the local nursery school, and played tennis with Gregory, (well- bat and ball stuff), while Louis rampaged around the sand-pit. Haven't run around so much for years, and was obliged to eventually Call A Halt, as was in imminent danger of total collapse. Back at the house, the boys were insistent we should play running races in the garden, but I managed to persuade them that 'What's the Time Mr Wolf' would be more fun. I had an idea this would be less demanding on my feeble athletiscism, as I was certain to hold the post of Mr Wolf most of the time. Positioning myself at the top of the garden with my back to them, Gregory would call out 'What's the time Mr Wolf?' which Louis then echoed. I let them get really close, and then turned round with a mighty roar and chased them back down the garden. Of course this bit required some physical effort, but I never had a hope in hell of catching them, so gave up quite quickly. Later on, after requesting a Time-Out, I was sitting on the patio smoking a ciggie ( Iknow- I KNOW!!), and Louis approached me, transfixed by the smoke issuing from my nose and mouth. He stood spell-bound for a minute then said in a puzzled voice 'Why are you breathing fire Nana?' I immediately felt like Fire-Breathing Dragon, and was honestly stumped for an answer. Reflecting later, came to conclusion expression 'out of the mouths of babes and sucklings', remarkably sage observation. Sleeping arrangements at house somewhat difficult, so slept in same bed as grandsons. First night, slept in middle, but discovered Louis sleeps in totally abandoned fashion, flat on back with arms spread wide. Nudged ever nearer to the edge, Gregory fell out of bed twice, but manfully climbed back in without complaint. The next night I suggested I sleep on the outside, and spent the night hanging on for grim death to edge of bed. Although only short fall to floor, had feeling might Break Something if catapaulted out. Sometime in the night Gregory gave up the Fight For Space, and nobly re-positioned himself in sideways position, so managed to Get Through Night Unscathed. Mind you, having survived that, nearly broke neck at station on way home, as fell untidily over madly careering woman's suitcase whilst craning neck to read train departures board. Regret to report I screamed in dramatic fashion as felt self hurtling towards platform, which attracted quite a lot of attention. Mercifully fell onto Madly Careering Woman's suitcase, which was agreeably soft, so avoided Major Injury. Finally boarded train with Huge Sigh Of Relief, and proceeded homewards. Spent journey making promises to self to get fitter in order to be better Mr Wolf, and have more stamina for tennis, football, running games etc. etc. Fell asleep at prospect and came to as train reached Birmingham. Realised had probably been asleep with mouth open and Possibly Dribbling. Finally got home, tottered in, and early to bed, where I can report, Slept Like Log.