He made these entertainment broadcasts the basis of a repertoire of his own theatrical pieces, which he perfected over months of practice. He could even recite a bit of ‘The Bells’ when he’d downed a pint or two, but he always forgot his lines sooner or later — usually at the emotional climax when he was wringing his hands.
Grandma was wary of all this performing nonsense: “Can’t you just finish the knives and forks? Spit and polish is what you are supposed to be at, not reminiscing about being underneath some arches dreaming or climbing staircases to Paradise. Look here, if you don’t stop mooning about I shall give you a kick in the pants that’ll get you to Paradise in record time.”
His dance routines especially seemed to grate on her. Just seeing him trying to imitate a shoe shuffle wi
