Nine ladies dancing

In London for the middle of the day. Borough market was on so bought some cheese and stuff for Christmas on my way back to the station. Had pie, mash and gravy sitting on a church wall - absolutely delicious, I love the stalls there.Lovely pre-Christmas atmosphere.

Stopped to blip one of my favourite views on the river, the Millenium Bridge with St Paul's in the background.

Now catching up with work, but wrote today's Stella and George whilst I was on the train - so here you go.

Christmas 2003

Lauren had been a teenager for at least three years before it was made official. Her sardonic wit was superior to anyone else's in the family, and more than a match for the hapless woman who ran the dance troupe where she spent her Saturday mornings. So when it came to competition day at the end of the winter term, it was no surprise to hear her mutter that their main rivals looked like "a bunch of little bo peeps coated in sugar and more likely to make you vomit than a three day old chicken sandwich from a petrol station". Although being a determined vegetarian that was not likely.

The mothers made an attempt to be nice to each other but the tension in the hall was palpable. Lauren's troupe of nine in black leotards danced a jerky and streetwise set of moves to the Elephunky "Where is the Love?" by The Black Eyed Peas. This was clearly not a popular choice with the more traditional frou-frou inclined dance companies.

"Nice" said one of the mothers in a tone of voice that implied "not". Stella just smiled.

After the break their big rivals came on stage, all in pink and smiling sweetly in their opening positions. They were known to be dancing to a sickly rendition of a popular chart number. Lauren yawned as they waited for their cue and smiled a knowing smile at her mother. The music suddenly burst upon them.

It was instant stuttering chaos. Instead of the tune they were expecting it was a bizarre number called "Please Daddy don't get drunk this Christmas" by John Denver.

You came home at a quarter past eleven
Fell down underneath our Christmas tree
Please Daddy, don't get drunk this Christmas
I don't wanna see my Mumma cry

Eventually they got sorted and found the track they were supposed to perform to but by then it was too late. Lauren's leotards swept the day and the rivals left either in tears or in a seriously foul mood; either way the parent suffered and to some extent emulated their daughters' mood.

"Funny that" said George when he picked them up and heard the story. "Wonder how it happened"?

"They got the CDs mixed up I expect" said Stella.

"Apparently it was voted the worst Christmas song ever" said Lauuren who had her eyes closed and was feigning dozing off until this point.

"Oh" said Stella "and how would you know that?"

"Just something I heard" said Lauren smiling feintly.

On Christmas Day one of Lauren's many presents was a CD of The Best of John Denver. Nothing was said but looks were exchanged and a psychic promise made. Even though the frou-frous had probably deserved it, such tactics were considered unacceptable in civilised households ...