I’M FINALLY thinking that I’ve managed to shake off the worst of this wretched cold; for me it’s been a tedious, uncomfortable week of sniffles and sneezes, of blocked sinuses and a hacking cough.
For My Good Lady it’s been a tiring week, too, trying to balance my demands with her need to keep fairly quiet, not always successfully. There was a point when I feared we might need to call on Social Services for help.
Anyhow, we risk a trip down to the Pub this afternoon and meet up with some of our chums there, including Mr P, the music teacher. He’s busy at the moment rehearsing this year’s school musical, Kander and Ebb’s Cabaret – a rather risqué choice for his youngsters as I point out.
“They’re really enjoying it,” he says. “They’re very bright kids.” And he adds that he’s got to take the girls down to Ann Summers sometime.
“What, the sex shop?” I ask.
“Yes, for their costumes.” He grins at my shocked look. “Seriously. They need thongs and brassieres and things like that. The musical is set in a sleazy German nightclub.”
“I know, but - ” I shake my head, for once stumped for words.
Schooldays have certainly changed since my time!
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