You make me feel like yawning
The Landlady
I am always fascinated to hear about weird family traditions and habits. For example, when I was around five-years-old, I had a Great Uncle who, on greeting me, would say “How do you do?”, to which I would reply “Very well thank you, how are you?”, to which he would again reply “Very well thank you, how are you?”, to which I would reply with the same. We would repeat the question amid much hilarity more times than I care to think about, to a point by which even I was finding it a little tedious. He must have had the patience of a saint. We also had a holiday tradition when, driving to Weymouth from Dorchester, my mother and I would sing a two-part harmony of Speed Bonny Boat, which was far more of a torture than a tradition for our fellow passengers, I fear.
Just recently, myself and my older offspring have developed our own, rather strange family tradition. It first came about when I recounted one of my ‘amusing’ – or so I thought – anecdotes to them one evening. My amusing anecdote, which is a true story, involves a jingle composer I still work with who was, for many years, Leo Sayer’s lead guitarist. One night during the early 80s – when Leo was, no doubt, the wrong side of his ‘use by’ date – the band were out touring some venues in South Africa. I am sure that, at this time, the venues were not entirely politically correct and the band were being transported from gig to gig in an old Lancaster Bomber. Anyway, during one gig, the band ended up drinking too much beer and, with Lancaster Bombers not being best known for their washroom facilities, the entire ensemble were dying for a pee. The pilot refused to land for such piffling reasons and instead, flew very low over some corn fields while the band, one by one, peed out of the open door in a bizarre crop-spraying kind of way. It’s a good job that it was only a four piece band and not the entire London Philharmonic Orchestra – although I do also have some fairly hairy LPO drinking stories, from knowing one of the violinists…
“My children feign the pulling-on of an afro wig and singing, thus drowning out my current story”
Anyway, that is the end of the Leo anecdote, which I recounted to the kids very late one night when The Big Son came in fairly drunk, having been to a party on a boat in London. He had been mortified when, on the return coach journey, the driver had refused to stop and let the assembled rabble of 18-year-old boys get off and have a pee, even though they had been drinking all evening. This reminded me of my Leo Sayer story, which I duly recounted to be greeted with blank faces. The upshot of all this is that since I recounted my Leo story, every time I get half-way through a similar anecdotal exercise, all three of my children feign the pulling-on of an afro wig and start singing “I feel thunder in myheart…” at the tops of their voices, thus drowning out my current story. Thunder In My Heart is of course the only Leo Sayer song my children know and I would far prefer You Make Me Feel Like Dancing as it is sung in a higher register and would have a more comical effect. I am sure that this is a tradition that will endure and, from now on I shall be keeping my amusing anecdotes to myself. So there.
