Oooh Missus! What a lovely organ!

2007-09-30, 11:34 p.m.
Sat in my car, in stationary traffic, for about quarter of an hour on the way home from rehearsal tonight. Right next to me was one of those matrix signpost things. On it, it said �Caution. Delays.�

No shit, Sherlock!

Here�s an idea. Put the matrix sign at the roundabout just BEFORE the motorway, so I can see it and decide to go home via Chandlers Ford (dodging the
armed robbers
, obviously) instead of belting down the sliproad and discovering too late that I will be going nowhere for a while, certainly not home to my loved ones (That�s BF and Treacle and Jooj, in case you were wondering).

The only saving grace is that Radio 2 were doing some kind of retrospective so I was able to sing along to Engleburt Humperdinck�s �The Last Waltz�, which is something you don�t often get to do. Unless you live in a nursing home and your name�s Beryl, perhaps.

Im sorry Ive been so very very absent without leave for a bit � thanks to smashthegas for holding the fort for me, BTW � Work has been heinous in the extreme, with a two day sales team meeting (and accompanying dinner � just couldn�t seem to get �Happy Hour� out of my head), writing MORE magazine articles, doing a photoshoot (cos Im a stylist now, apparently) and generally being all things to all men�.except BF, who has been feeling the edge of the �Fuck Off You Randy Bastard, Im Knackered� sword for a few more days than could be deemed friendly.

Rehearsals for the play have been going really well. Im slightly panicky that we�re only a month from opening but Im still pleased with how my performance is going. It�s a very young cast (except me!) and they all seemed to know each other. I was the �old woman nobody knew� despite being with that company for 20 years or so.

On Wednesday last week, we had to do the bit where my character (a kind of cross between Liz Macdonald and Nora Batty) realises that her husband is dead and goes into a somewhat unexpected and complete decline. Im not saying that I am the best actress in the world, far from it, but my ability to cry REAL TEARS, on demand, with accompanying snot and wailing, took my younger and less experienced cast-mates by surprise. At the end of the scene there was a longish silence��and then they clapped! Surprised-yet-smug was a blend of emotions I wasn�t expecting to feel at that point. I am now, it appears, IN with the cool kids, who have started to offer me bits of snack-time pizza, and include me in their conversations (which mostly seem to be about stuff I don�t understand, like Facebook and Radio 1). Speshly as I was able to dredge up the same amount of tears etc on the following two runs through of that scene on Wednesday and on every occasion that we�ve done that bit since.

On Friday I noticed one or two of the other girls trying to dredge up moistened eyeballs for *their* sad bits. Im pleased to say none of them was able to do it. One or two of them looked like they were taking a shit. Im sure that will come in handy if we ever decide to do a play involving constipation (sorry, too tired to think of puns. Feel free to add your own. Best I can do is A Room With A Loo)

TOOT TOOT TOOT *blows own trumpet*

In other news, BF and I had to go to church on Saturday, for a �Marriage Preparation Morning�. I think we�ve kind of worked out for ourselves what does and doesn�t make a marriage tick along happily, as we are both miserable divorc�s (with accompanying cloven hooves, natch), but we kind of had to go.

I had Jooj and Treac with me this weekend so they had to come too. They packed a big bag full of colouring pens and dominoes and books to read and a Walkman (I checked their CD collection and played them all backwards, just in case there were any which gave out subliminal messages. Like �Im not very keen on Jesus, the sandal-wearing hippy� or �Mascara and Christianity are NOT mutually exclusive�. They all seemed to be OK. There wasn�t even anything subliminal in Smack My Bitch Up.)

The church is absolutely beautiful.

And freezing.

While we were �getting to know� the other couples (for �getting to know� read �playing �Well, THAT�LL never last!��) I was mentally trying to work out if I could remodel my wedding outfit to include a cosy parka. And balaclava. And Ugg boots.

The first part of the morning was a talk by a very nice lady from Relate who sanctimoniously informed us that she had been married for 30 years. As she began to lecture us on what we need to do to have a good marriage (it appears *Shock! Horror!* that this may include such revolutionary tactics as �talking to each other�, �being respectful�, �overcoming conflict� and �remembering your wedding vows�. Well, fucking hell. Obviously that�s changed quite a lot of things for us, as me and the ole BF had set our future happiness on ignoring each other, bitching, a cycle of snipe/sulk/snipe/sulk and yelling �I don�t know why the fucking hell I married you in the first place, you twat!�), it became apparent why this monobrowed drudge had stayed married for 30 years. She had clearly bored her husband into a catatonic state. Even as we listened to her droning on (WITH FLIP CHART!) about how �infidelity can damage a marriage and it might be a good idea not to do that�, or something, I could picture poor Mr Relate, at home on the sofa in front of Take The High Road, staring fixedly into space and dribbling milky tea down his cardigan.

The second part of the morning was a bit on the actual technicalities of getting married. This bit was by the very lovely Rural Dean and so was interesting at least. As I mentioned before, the church we�ve chosen doesn�t have a priest at the moment but they are hoping to have a new one in place by Christmas. We�ve requested, if at all possible, that the rural dean conduct our service as he is lovely. And not at all like a vicar. Which is always a good thing in a vicar.

Then, after a restorative (ie thawing!) cup of tarry black tea with a thick film of hard-water scum on top, in the Parish Room, where my children had been waiting � charming all the church ladies with their nice manners and their ability to play with each other without the aid of a referee - it was back into the church for

The organist. Oh My.

Edit: Umm�I just googled this guy and he�s on Utoob. He�s fairly�ummm�unusual, so if you want to, you can ask me how to find the link. Or maybe just look for Eccentric Organists. Or something. Anyways, Im not gonna name him here. That wouldn�t be fair. Now Im gonna go cut out some of the stuff I said.

Firstly, despite being very young, and it being a Saturday morning, he was wearing a dark blue serge suit. And bow tie. One trouser leg was tucked into his sock. I can only assume (as my dad used to do it, like 30 years ago), that he had bicycled to the church and was concerned about his trouser leg becoming entangled in the chain.

When he spoke (which he did. At length.) he pressed his finger tips together, like a spider doing push-ups on a mirror, and gazed heavenwards. His voice was the voice of every pantomime clergyman you EVER saw � think Derek Nimmo + Rowan Atkinson + Dick Emery +��I just googled �comedy vicar� but I cant come up with any more examples.

He started by introducing us to Bertha. The organ.

Oh fuck. Now, I know guys name their �organ�s all the time. They like to �point Percy at the porcelain� or play �Mr Wobbly hides his helmet� or whatever. But I never met a man who named his *organ* before. I thought it was only earnest female students who were given to naming inanimate objects; 2CVs called Daisy and stuff like that. Although, my friend Lizzie did once have a plant called Robert. It was only by biting my lip and bowing my head away from those sat opposite me that I was able to stifle the urge to laugh hysterically and yell �you are fucking JOKING!�. I�d like to think that I looked as though I was lost in prayer, possibly shivering a little from the cold, rather than snorting with suppressed mirth and having to grip the pew with both hands.

He played us a few tunes. (see how cleverly I edited that! You�d never know!)

After about ten minutes, he moved on to Handel�s Arrival of The Queen of Sheba. I heard the girl at the end of my pew whisper to her beau �That�s the one I want!�. Before I could stop myself I said �Oooh, thats lovely! I had that LAST TIME!� and then had to frantically do a �Im sure its not jkinxed or anything, just because Im divorced doesn�t mean you shouldn�t have it cos it is a lovely piece of music and it would be SO right for your wedding!� as her face was frozen in a totally freaked out way and I thought I could hear the sound of �BADLUCK! BADLUCK! BADLUCK!� sirens going off.

Gotta go now, but will try to get back here a bit more often this week. How�s Tuesday or Thursday for you?

S
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