The reason I never married Robbie Williams
Sometimes laughter is the best medicine.
Just not in church.
Never in church!
Back in the day, in my teenage years, my best friends and I loved singing.
We also loved Take That.
*(For my American friends: Think ‘New Kids on The Block’; or younger friends; ‘One Direction’)*
My two friends and I were actually pretty good singers. We thought that maybe one day, we could crack our way into showbiz, and become pop stars. (And meet Take That!)
Back then, this was not a realistic goal at all. It was the era when record labels ruled the world and ‘X factor’ did not exist. There were no “make me a star, Simon” shows about in those days.
There was no twitter or facebook. Pop stars were totally inaccessible. This made them appear even more famous because they were seemingly less real. Magazines and TV shows were the only way to learn anything about your “future husband” (ahem, Robbie Williams) *Mark Wahlberg/Harry Styles*
We used to rehearse in my friend Vicki’s kitchen, or in her Piano room (as I recall, a room with literally just a piano in it). My clever friend, who was really good at music, would play Take That songs from sheet music and we would sing along. Making up our own harmonies and feeling very proud of ourselves.
We didn’t just sing Take That, either. We took a whole array of songs to make our own. Vicki even wrote a few good ones. And at Christmas, we put together the obligatory, Christmas medley.
I was a regular church goer. My Mum made my brother Mark and I sing in the choir from a young age. We went to church every Sunday (whether we liked it or not).
Being from a very small village in the smallest county in the UK, church services used to rotate every two weeks between two next door villages, Egleton and Hambleton. Egleton, being the smaller village. Hambleton, being where I lived.
There was going to be a Christmas Carol service at Egleton a couple of weeks before Christmas. My parents thought it would be a really good idea for my friends and I to perform our ‘Christmas medley’.
At first we debated whether or not we should do it. It was not exactly the first gig we had in mind. But then we convinced ourselves that so many great singers started singing in church e.g. Whitney Houston, Maria Carey, James Brown. We had to start somewhere.
We were so nervous.
The day of the concert came.
We sang our little hearts out.
We were great. (Even if I do say so myself)
All the church goers absolutely loved our singing and complimented us on what a great job we did. It felt amazing. We were very proud of ourselves.
Because the Egleton gig was such a hit, the Vicar asked us if we would perform at the bigger concert, in the larger church the following week; my home, Hambleton.
Of course we would. What could possibly go wrong? It was a home crowd.
We’d rehearsed a version of ‘Mary’s Boy Child’ that would seamlessly blend into ‘Hark the Herald’. Or so we thought.
You see, my friend Pats, is very funny. She has funny bones that girl. And when you are best mates, (and teenagers), all it takes is just one look.
One knowing look.
Merrily singing our way through ‘Mary’s Boy Child’, I glanced to my left and caught Pats’ eye. I was a goner. And like a set of dominoes, so was Pats.
Giggles of the highest order began. Tears rolling down our faces. Shoulders jiggling up and down.
We tried our hardest to stop laughing and carry on. Vicki was now holding the descant of Hark the Herald on her own. (Such a professional).
My inner voice was giving me a proper telling off. I was also wondering what to do for the best. I could hear the chastising words my Mum would say to me, the minute we stopped.
My Mum was scary.
I had to do something.
I bravely stepped forward towards the congregation and apologised with these words, forever etched on my brain:
“I’m sorry everybody but we seem to have got the giggles”.
It didn’t go down well with the fans.
No-one thought it was funny like they do when TV presenters get the giggles.
Phillip Schofield does it all the time!
We held our heads in shame. How can one little look do so much damage?
It was our last public gig.
In a quiet reminiscing moment, sometimes I wonder what could’ve been…
Could this be the reason I never married Robbie Williams?
Here Endeth the Lesson.
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