….and thought of me.
Yes, when I was tiny I had dreams of being a dancer. I used to practice my dance moves around the house, didn’t we all? Bouncing on the sofa gave my allegros extra spring; the polished parquet floor made me glide like a swan across a lake, and the nylon nets could be ripped down to make a fetching fairy gown.
The towel rail in the bathroom, complete with fluffy white towels, was my own personal ballet barre where I would practice tendus, ronde de jambes, and some frivolous frappés. I would round off my routine with a couple of grand pliés – meaning that I would bend my knees and sink down to the floor whilst keeping a firm grasp of the towel rail… indeed, my grasp was so firm that one day I found myself carrying the towel rail, complete with fluffy white towels, down the stairs and into the living room to explain to my parents how the towel rail had inexplicably detached itself from the wall. My parents were not impressed, nor surprised, as the previous week I had fallen out of the shower taking the shower curtain with me.
Anyhow, enough with the jolly nostalgia, this week I have been pitching for the BBC weather forecast contract. So far I have impressed them with my age, experience, and traditional methods, which include Tarot card reading; an in-depth knowledge of what ladybirds do when there is a snowstorm brewing and, by looking out of the window and sniffing the air. I am aiming to charge them £50 a week – they are umming and ahhing about this as Charmaine is also pitching, she says that when the weather is inclement her nibs perform differently, to quote – ‘they go proper stiff’, and she is willing to demonstrate this by flashing them every evening on tea time telly for only £30 a week and six million extra viewers.
Next week: Charmaine does something interesting with a box of crayons [again] and Aunt Scarlet gets a tattoo….