... that's all I can say.
One of our neighbours turned sixty on the weekend, and her family had a big party for her. So it was, that Saturday evening found Me and My Cuppa at a lodge by the lake. While lodge can sound pretty highfalutin, this was a pretty ordinary place although it does overlook the water, one that I would happily visit again sometime, perhaps for a good breakfast and a great view. However, this occasion was in the evening. We arrived rather late, after dinner ... and, somewhat surprisingly to us, just in time for karaoke.
I suppose that Me and My Cuppa have led pretty sheltered lives, but we had never before been exposed to karaoke. Cuppa's got a decent voice, and, while I don't, I can at least carry a tune — more or less — so we thought we'd give it a go.
We thumbed and fumbled through the song title catalogue, back and forth, forth and back, searching, in vain as it turns out, for a song that we might know and that we might be able to sing. I dunno, but among the thousand of songs listed, we didn't seem to know many. Oh, we knew bits of tunes here and fragments of lyrics there, but that was it for the most part. We should have given up, I suppose, but, in the interest of being good sports, we were determined to find something. We really shouldn't have. Really!
It must have been in a moment of insanity that we picked the old Sonny and Cher classic, I Got You Babe. I mean to say, we all know that one, sort of. Well, that's what we thought, Me and My Cuppa, but we were wrong. We started behind, sang intermittently as we kept losing our way. Sometimes, we even found ourselves ahead. It was rather funny when Cuppa looked at me in relief that it was all over, only to have me point to the screen to tell her that the song was still going on. To put it mildly: we stunk! Perhaps you can ascertain the look of puzzlement my face in the shot below.
Now, there was a time when I might have been mortified, but I didn't really mind the other night. We joined in rather than hang back, and I don't believe that anybody thinks any less of us for our sorry performance. They are unlikely to ever ask us for an encore, however, but I can live with that.
Apparently, it would be best for all if I continue to confine my singing to my own house — which I do with regularity. Make a joyful noise and all that.