“It’s all about your embouchure”
My Dad led our brass band
on the euphonium; Mum did
percussion from the kitchen,
on the saucepans with the odd
kebab skewer.
Me and our Mark were tubas;
Great Auntie Flo (when she had
her teeth in) was flugelhorn.
Our Helen’s youngest two were
soprano cornets.
‘Course, none of us had instruments
– ‘cept Mum. But we all, according
to The Sally Ann, had
“the best embouchures
in Barnsley”.
In 2010, they let us play
alongside them in the Alhambra
Shopping Centre for the
Christmas Switch-On, then
mincepies at Asda.
After pursing our way through
Crimond for the fourteenth time
my lips were as swollen as
Angelina Jolie, my smile
twice as wide as Gromit’s.
Char March has won awards for poetry, playwrighting and short fiction. Her credits include: a short story collection Something Vital Fell Through, five poetry collections including The Thousand Natural Shocks, six BBC Radio 4 plays, and seven stage plays. http://www.charmarch.co.uk