I heard an amazing story of romantic derring-do at this week's rehearsal. Someone in our choir also sings in another choir – a small, exclusive a capella outfit who specialise in pop songs. This Sunday, one of that choir, or one of their friends (this detail escapes me) is going to propose to his girlfriend in Sainsbury's (I won't say which one, because she's probably reading and I'd hate to ruin the moment). But here comes the magic. As they're trundling up and down the aisles, the members of the choir will also be there incognito, in the guise of ordinary shoppers. At the designated moment, our hero will begin singing It Must Be Love (Madness, if you need reminding) to his girlfriend, and the choir will gradually join in, to the joy and amazement of bystanders. Oh yeah, and the girl. The performance will culminate, of course, with the proposal.
This is glorious for two reasons. Firstly, who knew that these foolhardy romantic gestures even happened in the real world? And secondly, it's a heartwarming throwback to the days of That's Life and their 'Get Britain Singing' campaign, which I would like to see revived. If you are too young to remember, one moment an old lady would be cruising the greengrocer aisle of her local supermarket, the next thing Doc Cox would be looming towards her in a white plastic pork-pie hat singing I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles, perhaps weighing a ripe grapefruit in each hand like a pair of breasts, or engaging the startled pensioner in a clumsy waltz.
Singing and romance. What could be better? Obviously her saying yes would be better. I was discussing this with Mrs Jones earlier and she offered a sobering reminder of how my godfather had proposed very publicly once on an aeroplane, only to be turned down flat. But I am clinging to the threadbare ropes of optimism.
Good luck, Romeo.