Do you like Gammon 'Am?

Fridays are normally a day when I get a lift home from work by B, with N&S.  Last Friday was no exception.  The reason why I get a lift is that they have all been to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.  Which is great for them all, and comes with the added benefit of meaning they all get a proper lunch.  The issue with this is that it would look a bit odd if I took in a steaming plate of sausages to work on a Friday, especially as it would be cold by the time it actually got to lunchtime, and there isn’t really space on my desk to accommodate the brown sauce.

My lack of a proper lunch leads to a split tea on a Friday, with N and B usually having sandwiches whilst I have something more substantial.  This brings us to a couple of Fridays ago when I happened to ask, in my unsuspecting way, what I might have for tea.  I was informed by B that she had got some gammon out for me that morning. 

It is usually at this point that N interjects, and that Friday was no exception. 

“What am I having?”

“You’ll be having sandwiches,” came the terrible reply,

“Can I have gammon?”

“No, you had sausages for lunch.”

N knows that this is going to be the answer and in many ways this is just her making conversation.  Because it turns out little girls can talk, like really talk, but that’s for another day.  On this day though she decided to take it to another level. 

It was faint at first, just a little sound, but gradually it became louder until finally it was distinguishable.  N had begun to sing.  I would now like to present to you N’s first foray into song-writing.  I hope you enjoy it.  This is to the tune of “Head, Shoulders Knees and Toes.”

I don’t like gammon ‘am gammon ‘am

I don’t like gammon ‘am gammon ‘am

And eyes and ears and mouth and nose

I don’t like gammon ‘am gammon ‘am.

Clearly we have found our generation’s Noel Coward.  If anyone has any ideas on how we might get her set up with a record label they would be gratefully received.

What really puzzles me is why she suddenly started exploring the nether reaches of a cockney accent as she belted out ‘gammon ‘am?’  Perhaps B has been sending her to chimney sweep school whilst I wasn’t looking?  It was so pronounced every time she got to that lyric (which was a lot as we had to have the song over and over again because it made B and I laugh so much) as though she really had been born within ear shot of Bow bells.  Although I’m fairly sure I would have remembered that.

He looks like he probably likes Gammon 'am a lot.

In the end we got home, I ate my tea, N ate hers, my gammon was lovely, and not that Cockney inflected and that was that.  But every now and then N will decide it’s time to bust out the song again and we will all end up with a smile on our face, which I suppose is the point of music after all.  And for the record, N really does like gammon, ‘ammy or not.