Wednesday 9 May 2012 - Sometimes I despair when it comes to my other half. Occasionally he says something that has me laughing like a train. Sometimes he imparts a nugget of information that intrigues me. However, more often than not, I’m privy to the minutiae of his day; so I have adopted the practice of looking as if I’m listening when I’m actually doing something much more interesting like algebra or long division.
Yesterday though we’re watching TV when he says; and this is an actual conversation. “Who sang the lemon drop song?”
“The lemon drop song?” I replied.
“Was it, Barbra Streisand?”
“I don’t know any lemon drop song?”
“You know the one, lemon drop, da da da da da da da da.”
“I’m sorry, but you’ve got me there.” I’m now beginning the lose the will to live.
“I know, “ he says with a flourish. “It was Bette Midler, wasn’t it?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never heard of the lemon drop song!”
He thinks for a while, with eyes screwed up and a forehead with more furrows than Lincolnshire field full of cabbages. “It goes - troubles melt like lemon drops, away above the chimney tops.”
“You plank. It’s not the lemon drop song, it’s Somewhere over the Rainbow.”
“Oh yeah, Liza Minnelli.”
I give up.