The Blues

The Carpet Whisperers do The Musical Recital

On June 18, 2010, in Family, music, by Rosie

Funky and Chicken are The Carpet Whisperers.

Word from across the globe tells us that The Carpet Whispering phenomenon is not restricted to southern Australia. Rumour has it that one Carpet Whisperer residing in the Northern Hemi had her carpet removed because a constant visitor to her home would not remove his shoes. Sure, this European Carpet Whisperer suggested that it was because the visitor had ‘very bad allergies’, however witnesses disagree. It was the shoe-wearing issue and possible dirt infestation of said carpet, that lead to its removal.

Floorboards the world over should rejoice! Carpets? Sorry, your futures seem waylaid, and your life expectancies shagged.

Which leads me to my favourite Carpet Whisperers, The Funkster and Chickaboo, and the continuing adventures of an almost-octogenarian couple. Studies are being conducted as to whether they are the only living duo likely to have an anaphylactic reaction to imperfection. Results to follow.

Recently, Funky and Chicken heard of a music recital being attended by a couple of their grandchildren. Would they like to come? Of course they really, really would. After being told of the time and venue, they ensured monies were paid several years prior to the purchase of tickets — they never owe, for crying out loud — and became quite excited about watching their offspring perform.

A couple of days ago, Chicken McLicken was chatting on the phone, and suddenly her face dropped (well, it was actually her voice, but it’s easy to imagine the falling of face here.)

‘I don’t think we can go to the music recital.’

To be honest, it’s not really a music recital. It’s the small music school’s half-yearly concert in the local C of E church hall, a bone of contention in itself, because perhaps the roof might fall in if Chicken entered a Protestant establishment. Perhaps she needs to wear orange? Anyhoo, Funky and Chicken like to call it the music recital, as though it’s being held in at the Opera House, being compared by Ray Martin and featuring the one and only Dame Joan singing something very high and indecipherable.

It’s not. Yet it remains The Music Recital.

With fear in her voice, Chicken said she might not be able to make it.

‘That’s okay. Don’t put pressure on yourself,’ Chicken was advised. ’There’s sure to be an end of year recital.’

‘It’s just I’m getting my hair set. Funky is driving me, and I don’t think we will make it in time.’

Oh-kay.

Please don’t think it odd that Chicken is getting her hair set for a local kid’s music concert that’s held on a Saturday arvo down at the local Proddy church hall, with some party pies and sausage rolls served afterward. This is the same Chicken McLiken who decreed that she would no longer take her exercise by walking around the neighbourhood track or along the streets, that she’d powerwalk around the backyard ‘so she wouldn’t have to get tidy. You know? In case I meet someone I know!’

Because one’s polo collar must be aligned with each hair in the fringe, and exercise leisure suit must fully complement the spankingly clean runners. And sweat? In the antithesis of Nike — Just don’t DO it, in public.

Thus, hair-setting for the recital seems appropriate and in no way over-the-top.

When asked what time her hair appointment was, Chicken said it was an hour before the start of the concert. It was pointed out to her that her hairdresser was only 6 minutes 47 seconds drive from the hall, and that hair setting of her very well-maintained head would only take half an hour.

Oh yes. She was very relieved.

‘And,’ said Chicken, ‘it was the only time I could get my hair done before we went away. I couldn’t leave it an extra week, could I? Imagine how (*insert a VERY disgusted face*) flat and awful it would be after that long!’

Given Funky and Chicken’s propensity to hyperventilate in the face of imperfection, the EpiPen was prepared in case of a week between hair-setting appointments.

The carpet still remains untouched by human shoe.