Serenaded

Being serenaded is usually associated with writing your own song to your love and recording it on a tape, yes tape,  or performing it in a park or on a beach during a sun set. This is so lovely, serenades are pretty rare, in universal terms, someone should be in charge of making them cool (I may say again, but I don't know if they ever were other than in 1563). Ask Shakespeare, he had all the ladies.

But, I have been serenaded and I'm not going to lie it wasn't the highlight of my life that I quite expected.

After work I needed to get buy a few things for my mum on a bit of an errand. And being in a post Christmas mega diet mode, I decided to walk to my local shopping centre. This is quite usual for me, it's only a half hour and I need feel like I'm doing something good for my body after the bottomless pit of Christmas biscuits.

When I'm by my self I have a strong tendency to talk. Not to anyone in particular,  more to myself. Often arguing, most of the time singing. But this causes me to be quite oblivious to the things around me, sometimes I even cross the road without really noticing that I have.

But this occasion brought me out of the daze. As I was walking down a main road an old man in a greyish/muddy tracksuit-jumper combo, peddled towards me on his bike. This is usual, it was a Monday during the morning and everyone knows that an abnormal amount of old people creep out of their houses, safe in the knowledge that the monstrous fountain dwelling youths are at school.

This man was different. Probably drunk, or high. He stopped his bike a few metres in front of me, and began to slur 'i love you' quite loudly but almost with a tune.

I'm not a music critic or  music teacher, and I couldn't tell you whether he was in the right pitch. But using my extensive experience as a X Factor viewer, my verdict is that he should not peruse a career in the music industry as a singer or song writer, to put it lightly.