It was like this: Gretchen was taking a ‘phone call and I was perusing my emails (you know … the ones from those nice Nigerian gentlemen …). It being warm and sunny, we had the Centre’s windows and doors open to take advantage of the dust and tree pollen.

Gretchen was just warming to the subject of why we weren’t interested in changing our telecoms supplier/buying double glazing/stocking up on dodgy inkjet cartridges when her Centre Manager (that would be me) galloped from her office and hurtled down the front steps like a one-woman elephant stampede.

When Gretchen finally managed to hang up on the cold caller, she appeared at the front door and gazed in some bemusement at her Centre Manager, who by that time was in the shrubbery up to her armpits in a magnolia bush.

“You flew out of the door”, she said, stating the obvious.

“That’s because Singing Games flew out of the window” was the somewhat breathless retort as said Centre Manager retrieved pages 10 to 14 of the songsheet …

One day, I’ll probably put Singing Games on eBay, but for the moment, I’m just too fond of it …

The Attack of the Singing Clones …