We had to go visit the Doctor while we were there in Yorkshire, not for me, but to get some Epilim Chrono for The Boy for his epilepsy, as in my delirium to get to Yorkshire in time to visit the Dentist (don’t ask why I have a dentist in Yorkshire while I live in Suffolk it’s really too long a tale) I forgot them.
Anyway we are waiting to see the doctor, Bog Boy, Granny, Me and the Boy. Both Boys are quietly stripping the leaves off the suspect pot plant in the waiting room as they don’t have any magazines or toys because they would aid the spread of disease, and all is calm.
An old boy is slumped in a corner chair, a mother is rocking her baby and a dark haired lady is looking flatly at her surroundings, we all avoid catching each others’ eye; maintaining a distance respectfully from each other.
A little voice starts to sing:
Bog Boy: “Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells!”
I start to stiffen in my seat. I glance nervously at my mother; she seems oblivious. Doesn’t she know how potentially dangerous the situation is?
The innocent little voice continues getting louder:
Bog Boy: “Batman Smells!”
Ha! that got her attention. Because of all the coughing I’ve been doing for the past two days I don’t have any voice left to tell him to stop. I wave at Mum frantically trying to get her to DO something…
Bog Boy: “Robin’s laid and egg…”
Now I know everything hangs on the next words out of his mouth and I am praying it is not the version I heard them practising in the car on the way up from Suffolk. It wasn’t appropriate then and it certainly won’t be appropriate in a doctor’s waiting room in North Yorkshire.
Bog Boy: “Uncle Billy…
I groan and sink further down in my seat hiding may face behind my scarf.
Bog Boy: “…has lost his willy on the motorway!”
There is a collective in drawing of breath and I flush from head to toe and just wish the world would swallow me up. I am NOT his mother, no I am not. He has nothing to do with me I don’t even know where he came from. I mean look at him he’s blonde! I am not ergo not mine.
The dark haired lady snorts with surprised mirth.
The old boy laughs: “By ‘eck lad tha’s got a grand voice: tha’ll b’snapped up by vicar for choir for yer know it!”
And suddenly the whole day brightens. Bog Boy grins in delight and just as he’s about to give another rendition this time accompanied by his elder brother, we are called away for our turn. We wave at our new friends and depart leaving them happy and wanting more.