Mamalade

I dropped Mum off at the bank on Friday, and drove round the block to find somewhere to park. I found a good spot in the car park behind the supermarket and walked through from the back of the fruit shop.

That’s when I heard it.

“Come, come, come and make eyes at me,
Down at the old Bull and Bush.
Come, come, drink some port wine with me,
Down at the old Bull and Bush.
Hear the little German band.
(Ta-ra-ra-ra-oompa-pa)
Just let me hold your hand dear?
Do, do come and have a drink or two,
Down at the old Bull and Bush!!
(bush, bush)”

An elderly couple were sitting on the seat in front of the fruit shop. He was playing an accordion and singing lustily. His partner was accompanying him with wild flourishes on a trombone. Their timing wasn’t synchronised and they sang way off key.

It was wonderful!

“Are they really that bad or is it a comedy act?” I asked the girl in the fruit shop.

“I think they’re just learning!” she laughed.

I walked along to the bank to meet Mum. “I was going to suggest that you wait hear while I bring the car around, ” I told her, “but you’ve got to come and hear these mad musicians!”

They were struggling through another tune when we arrived back at the fruit shop. Mum looked puzzled. “Is that Waltzing Matilda?”

“It was before they murdered it!” I chuckled.

The next one was “Botany Bay” – with a “toorili-loorili-addity” that really cracked me up. The expression of pure enjoyment on their faces was a joy to behold. They made my day.

Mum and I each threw a dollar into their hat.

It was worth every cent.