Last weekend I helped to host a bingo rally dressed as Aunt Sally from Wurzel Gummidge. M____ was dressed as Wurzel - he brought out the numbers and I called them. Octogenerians arrived in coaches from all over the North to participate in Abba-Themed bingo (instead of shouting 'House,' you shout the name of the Abba song you think is in the caller's envelope and if you get it right your prize money's doubled) and an Easter Bonnet parade. They processed 'round the hall in their self-made Easter bonnets and the best three received Easter hampers.
It was extremely hot in the Aunt Sally costume. And (I maintain) the massive bonnet distorted sound, which was obviously the reason for the claim I missed.
There was live music (a very good singer on an Electronic organ who did all the old classics) and I danced in the aisles with the old women, swinging my massive Victorian skirts in time to the music.
It was enormous fun.
Yesterday I went to Beamish Open Air Museum of the North. It wasn't the weekend, but it was a weekend-y sort of thing to do, I suppose.
I have a feeling our Exalted Leader might have shares in the place, given the way his name was plastered around the joint.
Me with a mouthful of Fry's cream.
NO. No. That's just wrong. How could you think I meant... Well. Some people's minds are just filthy.
'Never trust a man in a blue trench coat,
Never drive a car when you're dead.'
(Telephone Call From Istanbul, Tom Waits)
My Attempt at Tumbling
