Jo said, “It’s not a bad idea. He won’t get any money for taking his clothes off but I bet a load of people would give him money to put them back on!” And we sniggered.

Sidone said, “I am sure you will have many bright ideas of your own, my little stars. And Mr. Barraclough at The Blind Pig will be more than happy to have a performance in his pub.”

Monty hove back into view. In his dance tights. He began tap-dancing and singing to “If you go down to the woods today you’re sure of a big surprise.”

Oh holy angel Gabriel and all his cohort!

As we filed out, Flossie said to me, “Yes, Tallulah, do you remember what larks we had, when we last performed at The Blind Pig? When you were a little horsie and you were so good, weren’t you, that Mr. Barraclough still offers you apples.”

At home time, Flossie, Vaisey, Jo, and I pretended we were popping down to Heckmondwhite to get some good-bye jammy dodgers whilst Honey packed. But we had the jammy dodgers already! We were really making up a tribute song to Honey in the music studio.

After about half an hour of practice, Flossie said, “Er, Lullah, I’m not being mean or anything, but can you just play the tambourine?”

Walking home, I was talking to myself to keep warm.

“So, in conclusion, I have accidentally got into a performing arts college, hooray, and then just as I was chugging along on the showbiz express of life it has crashed into an unexpected otter. Boo. But there is a plan, to get the showbiz express back on track. Hooray! And do you know what that is? We’re going to improvise A Midsummer Night’s Dream in The Blind Pig, in tights, and go into the village and let the village folk laugh at us in our tights. And the Bottomly sisters and the village girls who already hate us will have a field day hating us and laughing at us in our tights.

“Then as a coup d’état Alex will turn up and see me in my tights and that will be the end of my life. And then Dother Hall will be closed down anyway.”

Oh noooooo. Booooooo.

Good-bye to a Tree Sister

IT MUST BE SOMETHING to do with the harsh weather conditions but I have woken up with Northern grit. I may wear a short-sleeved T-shirt today. I wrote in my Darkly Demanding Damson Diary:

Even though all the fund-raising plans are mad, at least we’re doing something. We’re fighting back. We’re fighting for our slippers.

All right I can’t sing or act or dance or—well anything—but maybe I can do an owl-based performance. Yes, yes, I can train Lullah and Ruby to do something. A “guess how much poo an owlet can poo in ten minutes” competition.

Or I could put different hats or wigs on them as famous historical figures.

The hats would have to be little. A little pirate’s hat or a Cleopatra wig. Dibdobs could knit them.