Tip toe to the centre of the stage.
Raise the red curtains.
Spotlight.
AND THE FAT LADY SINGS......................
Oh, I just hope I'm not being premature with the celebrations.
The bank accounts are closed.
The pension transferred to St. George.
The final account from SE Water has arrived.
The Will has been signed and solicitor paid.
I think it's all finished. I can start shredding papers. I can think about getting a life.
THE FAT LADY CAN HIT A HIGH NOTE NOW.........
15 comments:
Thank Christ!
I'm bloody sick of it all!!!
(But very nice poem, I'm sending it to Miss Croggon with my name on it)
I'm glad to hear it. I've been following along at home while one of my younger brothers does similar duty for my mum.
Now that life is simpler, what is your new plan?
~gc
"THE FAT LADY CAN HIT A HIGH NOTE NOW........."
Have you sat on a drawing pin?
and she is singing ...
The Hallelujah Chorus,
with
It's All Over Now (R.Stones)
as the encore.
Bravo!
[STANDS AND APPLAUDS]
Well done you!
(WV = SHEABL)
W00T!
WV = hatrun
Yes, you need to buy a red hat, wear purple and grow old disgracefully now in the Red Hat Society :P
New plan - stuff the diet and eat lots of chocolate and enjoy it.
No-one can sum up better than Daffy Duck: WOO HOO!
Woo-hoo!! Big sigh of relief here from me to you. Isn't it a great feeling to finally close the last page on something that has dragged on far too long.
Robbert, it's all down in my diary but I don't think I'll ever be able to read it for years.
Welcome GC, yours is another blog I haven't managed to visit like many others. My new plan hasn't been planned yet, you forget she's still with us.
Shutup Fleetwood, that high note of joy gave me a vomit inducing migraine I'm still getting over. I put it down to post traumatic joy overload.
Annie O, I must put 'It's all Over Now' down on the music list for the memorial service. It'll go nicely with Mozart Requiem and I'll be loving you always, her picks. I'll be silently mouthing th Hallelujah Chorus.
Duckie, now I'll have time to find out why my computer freezes everytime I visit your blog.
Jayne, I've got red hair, already wear purple and feel old beyond disgraceful.
Mindy, after the migraine last night, my stomach does not want chocolate, in fact it does not want to eat anything. I wonder if I'm dead?
Kath, I haven't caught up with Gone Chocco but I hope to get up enough strength to visit San Churro on Friday. My stomach might still not be up to chocolate but my eyes can still perve on the cute waiter.
River, it's been six months, 10th of August last year to 8th February. My sister is being looked at for ulcers, my nephew still looks twitchy and I'm too scared to stand on the scales.
I'm astonished at how mother became such an industry. Once they stuck her in a wheelchair it really took off.
Banks, solicitors, oh my golly, you're not really dead till you stop paying bills.
let the singing begin!
Robbert, Even the bill for being dead has been paid. I don't begrudge the money for the wheelchair though as someone else is doing the pushing. You'll see her at the Sportmans Club next Thursday, in Mordialloc, wearing her new sparkly shoes.
I'm still trying to figure out when I get a life.
It's a date!
Be careful, a life is for life, not just for Christmas.
I always forget what I am going to write when I read Brian Hughes - hehehehe
Post a Comment