Attention-grabbing

A bit of unexpected drama this evening when I got back from the Music Group session. Harry the Hippo warned me yesterday that he was unhappy being left alone since his best friend did a Humpty Dumpty, fell off his mantle perch and lost his head.

'I need lots of support just now', he said plaintively. 'It isn't easy being purple when my blue pal and his yellow bird aren't around to tone me down. Can you not miss even one Saturday and stay at home to keep me company?'

I did my best. I explained that this wasn't just any Saturday, that I had other responsibilities this time apart from just sitting there listening with a rapt expression and making the occasional deeply perceptive remark about the merits of different recordings and performances. 'We have to thrash out arrangements for our visit to the Belfast Opera House in February, and there's still stuff to be worked out for the trip to Zürich next May. I simply have to be there.'

'Hurumph!', he grunted. 'It isn't fair. I don't usually ask for much, and now the one time I need a bit of care and understanding you just ignore my feelings. It's all just business as usual as far as you're concerned. Well, you'll be sorry! Don't be surprised if you come home afterwards and I'm not here. I really can't manage the hurt by myself. I've a good mind to go over to Henrietta's place for a bit of pampering and understanding.'

I wasn't having any of it. He's tried this emotional blackmail business before, and I learned long ago that the only way to handle these tantrums is to ignore them. So I called his bluff and went to the music session as usual. We had a wonderfully pleasant afternoon. The music lifted our spirits and took our minds off the dull, monotonous grey sky which pressed down on everything outside. We usually go on to the nearest licensed hostelry when the music is over, but everybody had something else to do afterwards and I came straight home. Just as well I did! Harry hadn't been bluffing this time. He really was in the process of leaving. Fortunately I caught him just as he was vanishing into the pitch black night, made my peace, persuaded him to give me another chance, served up a big dish of his favourite hippo-chunks and generally spoiled him to make up for my selfishness.

We're best buddies again -- well, at least until the next tantrum.