Opera blues

Aaaah, a typical Italian lunch, imagine the scene, a long table set up heaving with bottles of vino, locally produced cheese, salami, plump tomatoes, just idyllic. I had been invited by a couple for a leisurely lunch along with 10 others. My mother, being in attendance this summer, I thought I would bring her along too. So there we all were, tucking in heartily to the local delicacies when suddenly, fuelled by the vino and grappa, my Mum stands up and announces she is going to perform some Italian opera...as one does.....She then suddenly erupts into a heartfelt rendition of a Verdi opera piece. Silence suddenly reigned, forks poised mid mouthful, as this tiny figure belted out her rendition of a classic masterpiece. My dog started howling but I put that down to hunger pangs, immediately quelled by an offering of leftover BBQ bones....all gratefully received. The performance came to an end amid rapturous applause whereupon the focus of attention fell into a nearby chair and promptly fell into an alcohol induced sleep. I prised the glass out of her hand and thought, OK, I’ll let her sleep it off. An hour later I had her carried upstairs to the hosts’ bedroom where I thought, OK, I’ll let her sleep it off. An hour later she was manhandled into the front seat (passenger seat, I hasten to add) of my Panda, still relatively unconscious and now mumbling incoherently, something to do with Pavarotti and pancakes??? I thanked the bemused onlookers for their hospitality and apologised profusely, reassuring them that my mother didn’t normally get blind drunk and have to be carried home, the daughter, perhaps but luckily that subject wasn’t touched on, at least not this time round. So there I was, approaching the house. Best not park round the front, I thought. I was going to have to drag her indoors with one of her arms dangling round my neck. Please God let her cooperate because if she’s a dead weight, we’re both doomed. I parked round the back and grappled unceremoniously with the former opera singer now fallen from grace. Thank God she isn’t a drunk that lurches into unbridled and barely comprehensible profanity when someone tries to move them. I struggled down the side alley, so far so good. The door was metres away, just need to turn the corner and.....uh oh.....my next-door neighbour’s guests were leaving....now what do I do? This coincided with a sudden and momentary revival of the Sicilian opera, now horribly out of tune, more a Sicilian farce. Shhh, I pleaded, they’ll hear us! The prim elderly couple passed by and peered down the alley. I waved at them cheerily, my Mother now silenced and slumped of course didn’t wave. We’re just going for a walk....! I trailed off wishing they would do the same. They waved back hesitantly, momentarily confused by the scene before them. The dimness of the alley was the only good thing about our encounter. Once they’d gone I wrestled the dead weight to bed. Tut, drunks, no use to anybody, I muttered, pulling the door to her bedroom closed and making a mental note to keep her on the orange juice next time.