And all that Jazz

Mick’s Mum was poorly. Very poorly. Poorly enough to receive goodbyes: which we did last Monday. Afterwards we went on to Southwold for an overnighter staying in a b&b called Brenda’s.

Although somewhat shocked at the colour of our room and fully expecting the Wizard of Oz to appear any minute, the green grew on me. It grew a lot and on reflection (hard not to) it became soothing and peaceful.

The peace was shattered at breakfast-time when the sound of excessive talking and frivolity floated up the stairs to my delicate morning ears. As there are only 2 letting rooms we were expected to dine with the other guests at the same time and on the same table. Argghh. It is hard enough for me to be bothered to talk to myself 1st thing without bothering about anyone else or having to listen to someone else’s drivel.

Dreading the moment we approached with trepidation to join Roy and Jackie for a brekkie feast. All fears were unfounded as they were a lovely fun pair and we giggled our way through the delicious meal.

Many people are mourning the sad death of the brilliant Humphrey Lyttleton. I was invited with my parents forever ago* to listen to him at an intimate little soirée at the Bull in Barnes. Before the show I noticed a woman holding a pint of beer in one hand and a rollie in the other (my type of girl).

I told my mother she seemed familiar. We discussed whether I knew her from school but I couldn’t quite place her so stopped annoying my brain and prepared to listen to the jazz. That evening I ‘got it’. Jazz stopped being the cacophony of a hundred cats being tortured and it truly did become music to my ears. Lyttleton’s talents stayed with me since then.

After a few tunes he introduced a guest to join him on stage. All cameras and lights shone on the familiar one. It was Elkie Brooks. Evenings don’t get much better than that.

Mick’s mum was clever enough to die on the same day as him. Martyn says they'll have gone on the same boat. What a party that will be ... they will be able to play into the never-ending night. I hope they start with, ‘Pearl’s a Singer!”

*BC + before children.