I have a singing teacher: Apparently.

Time was passing by. The day had passed pleasantly enough. We took ourselves off to the beach and nearby to shoot some 'stuff'. Now the shoot was a 'wrap' - or whatever it should be when it's finished, a glass of rhubarb and apple sat temptingly by my side as a tempest tore in. Mr Smit and the Smitlings came in for a little shooting of the breeze [I think]. Lovely.

Mrs Smit stayed at home and had some peace.

Mrs Smit.

Soon the tempest tore out again and Ms Smit informed me that she is now to be my singing teacher. Well, that's ok, my singing does require some tuition / help. I have no sense of holding tune and Ms Smit can. Hopefully, I shall have more time in tuition than I did when Ms Smit was my dance teacher.

Master Smit.

Master Smit seemed rather unconcerned about the whole affair.