Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious

It’s funny how life turns out. When I was young I wanted to have six children. As it happens, I have none but I do have six godchildren, five girls and a boy, who give me much pleasure. This year’s annual pantomime trip for my Gloucestershire goddaughter, Emily and her twin brothers, Harry and Hugh, had to be delayed until virtually Easter but it was worth the wait to see Mary Poppins. We were entranced by the set effortlessly transforming from the interior of 17 Cherry Tree Lane to the park with its wrought iron gates and lively statues to the rooftops with chimneys glistening in the moonlight. We hooted with laughter when the kitchen descended into absolute chaos whilst the cook was out. We were cheered and impressed by the enthusiasm and energy of the chimneysweeps’ dance, particularly when one of them walked vertically up the side of the stage, continued upside-down along the top and then back down the other side. We were amazed when Mary Poppins, holding her umbrella of course, literally flew high above the audience. The ice creams in the interval were jolly good too.