Speak Up!

What is this retirement malarky if not to enjoy a 30 minute piano recital on a weekday in St Brides' Church?


...and the winner is...

There's about 25 of us there. I sit in a side pew and most of the punters are seated in the aisle so I get a good look at them. Average age: 150. It's a stormy day outside. I think they're sheltering from the wind. Many appear asleep.

A sixty-something lady totters to the front. She's got a programme of the recital in her hand.

"Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen. Today's recital features-"

"Speak up!" comes a trembling, querulous, feeble female voice from about 5 feet away.
The interrupted speaker suddenly looks as if someone's shat on her programme. She gives the clearly deaf-as-a-post complainer a filthy look and says in a stentorian voice. "I CANNOT SPEAK ANY LOUDER. I HAVE A COLD." 

She then stares at the rest of the audience, who visibly shrink into their chairs (including me), and shouts, "CAN EVERYONE ELSE HEAR ME?"


Several of the snoozing nonegenarians are startled awake and look round in dazed confusion
"yes" we all mumble, terrified.
"RIGHT, I'LL START AGAIN" she says, with the weight of several metric tonnes of chips pressing down on her shoulders, judging by the sound of her loud, laboured sighs.


Eventually, she gets to introduce the pianist, and she entertains the slumbering OAP's with an agreeable mix of Bach & Gershwin, accompanied by the sound of the elderly giftshop kiosk attendant slurping his potnoodle in the background.