Fidler in the ‘Hood: Time to get into holiday mood

Cheers, one and all. Are you getting into the ‘mood’? There’s a kind of buzz all over the world, even down here.

So far so good: water is still in our taps. (Not all have been so fortunate).

The usual, as anticipated, load shedding came to town, causing much angst.

On with the show.

You Know It’s Christmas When 

The peace and quiet of the tranquil lanes of Uvongo was shattered the other evening.

The first carol singers of the season made a surprise visit to ‘chez nous’.

Sounds of something fairly close to Hark, the Herald Angels Sing filled the evening air.

Not quite the Drakensberg Boys’ Choir, nor the world-famous, much-loved Ink Spots of yesteryear, but we had to give credit to our local band of brothers for their initiative and enterprise.

We opened our not-so-pearly gates, and politely listened.

The tin was then politely presented, the offer to sing an encore carol being politely declined.

The tin clinked with our paper donation, along with our genuine thanks.

Their polite request for a bit of Christmas cheer was also politely turned down.

All very polite, but you had to give Les Chanteurs a ’10’ for their efforts.

I figured that, yes, peace and goodwill towards all men still prevails, even in this disillusioned, cynical world.

In The Mood For Mushrooms 

In one of my moments of madness, whilst watching supper being prepared, I commented to my very own CO that ‘yesterday, the 15th December, it was the 76th anniversary of Major Glenn Miller’s disappearance over the English Channel’.

The CO just happened to be cutting up mushrooms with a very sharp knife. She-who-shall-be-obeyed gave me that ‘I’ve heard it all before’ look.

I countered with: “Just for you, pet, I’ll play Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’, whilst you are cooking the meal.”

The knife took on a glistening shine as it was brandished towards me.

Diversionary tactics were called for.

“Really, pet, if it wasn’t for you, your caring for me, and your cooking, I would have been dead a long time ago.”
I thought it had done the trick. “By the way, pet, what’s for supper?”

“Mushrooms”, was the reply.

Suddenly, I had lost my appetite. Still, Glenn Miller’s ‘In the Mood’ is an all-time favourite of mine.

Once Upon A Time – 

As an aside, and a true story:

Many moons ago, the CO decided to ‘go back to (SA) school’, and write her matric just for something to do.
When exam time came around, she was stymied as to what topic to write about in her English essay. Her mind had gone blank.

Suddenly, the proverbial light bulb came on; the CO was inspired; the words flowed like wine.
The subject? “Boring People: Have you met the biggest bore of all? His name is George? He’s a Glenn Miller nut-case collector. He has 92 different recordings of ‘In the Mood’, all by Glenn Miller.”

We all knew who George was! My thoughts, at the time, were: “you cheeky bit of Irish grass!”
Matric results were published in the New Year. At the top of the column, there was someone named Doreen Mitchell.

Not only had she passed, she had passed with the highest marks in the province. I phoned her at 7am.
“Congratulations! I like to think George and myself had a hand in your success,” I proclaimed.
The rest is history. Revenge is sweet: I then married her. That was 30 years ago. She still doesn’t like “In the Mood”, well, not as much as I do.

I’m still not too keen on fresh-from-the-field cooked mushrooms and neither is the CO crazy about football, either!
The moral of the story? ‘To Each His Own’, a great song, and sung by the Ink Spots, too.

See you, Rob.

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