At short notice and being more or less set in her ways, Hilda hadn't
even dressed up for the grand occasion, though of course she looked
her best. Hilda does take a pride in her appearance. That favourite
old black and white turban hat and that nice green dress with fur
trimmed collar, that would do nicely. It's best to feel comfortable
when you're in strange surroundings.
It wasn't so much
the hat, nor the dress, nor for that matter her insistence on shaking
everybody's hand that gave the impression that it was all a bit new
to her. It was the cup of tea and the plate of sandwiches that Hilda
was clinging to as she made her way with some trepidation through the
music business reception throng of beautiful people breakfasting on
chilled champers, deep fried drum sticks and calling each other
'dwarling' that first gave me the impression that this might just a
shade different from those coffee mornings back home in
Coventry.
Still, this sort of thing happens when suddenly
you're top of the nation's singles chart.
You've never
heard of Hilda Woodward?. Well she's not the kind who seeks
publicity. She prefers to remain one of the two piano players in
Lieutenant Pigeon - the cuddly grandma in dark shades who pounds out
'Mouldy Old Dough' on Top of the Pops.
What does stardom
feel like?.
'It's absolutely incredible and this is a
lovely cup of tea'. Hilda admits in the same breath, in a voice that
reveals an accent as distinctive as the motor car engine that
originate from her part of the world.
'To tell you the truth, I haven't come
down yet' she adds.
Hilda's husband George couldn't attend
this reception laid on in her honour by Decca Records.
'You
see, he's an engineer and at the moment he's on nights'.
But
Hilda doesn't think he has missed much because 'George is a quiet
sort of person'.
Up until now Hilda Woodward has enjoyed a
small measure of fame as an accompanist round the Coventry cabaret
and working person's club circuit. She also organises a choir of
disabled people at the Enterprise Club, who do charity appearances.
Though the offers are starting to pour in, Hilda and the
other Pigeons aren't planning live appearances. 'I'm 52 and it's a
bit hard to start doing one night stands at my time of life'.
I
expect the rest of the lads in the band, who also appear under the
name of Stavely Makepiece, must have told Hilda about the perils of
living on a diet of M1 transport caff grub.
'Anyway' she
continues 'I just haven't got the time. I've got the house to run and
my club work to think of'. What an amazing lady !.
What
will Hilda do when the Mouldy Old Dough comes rolling in via royalty
cheques?. 'Well one thing's certain, I'm not going on a spending
spree......I'm not that kind of person'.
She ponders on
something to splash out on. 'I've always fancied a fur coat, so I
might buy myself one, and I'd love to buy a television for the
Enterprise Club'.
By Christmas world sales for 'Mouldy Old
Dough' could mean that Santa will be delivering a gold disc to
Hilda's home. This could prove to be a bit of a problem too. Say's
Hilda 'We'd have to get the house done up first and then think of a
special place to put it......I'm glad you mentioned that'.
Hilda's
particularly pleased for her two grand-daughters, Barbara, seven and
Susie, six. 'They're over the moon' she says in a voice that only
proud grandmothers possess, but ponders the predicament, 'but I'm
afraid that they've now got a rock 'n' roll grandma'.
Well,
when you come to think of it, there are worse things in life.
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