Thank You Starmer Reeves And Raynor
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Mad Over Fifties Club
162 Answers
Good evening and welcome to Mad Over Fifties Club. Here at the Towers we are in Olympic mood reflected in tonight's tailcock the "Sochi doodah"
Igor has donned his ski salopettes and Plant has taken to wearing silk thermals, there are large screens throughout the Towers showing the action and replays of todays events from the games.
Tonight's menu also reflects the games, on the hot plate tonight we have Fondue! A meaty version, a cheesy version and a sweet chocolate version!
(yumm) On the pudding trolley Black Forest Gateau (is it just me or is there a seventies vibe going on?) Echoing that our favourite local band the Tone Deafs will be playing a selection of seventies hits! Needless to say our customary volly vonts, canopies and horses doovers are also on the menu for tonight. Of course we also have some warming gluhwein and hot rum toddies!
Up in the gallery the Minstrels are warming up, another evening of madrigals and toccattas await us .......................
The fires are all banked up and nice cosy rooms await all who may not wish to indulge in some of our other activities. Talking of "alternatives" we have pushed the boat out, we have a ski slope, and an ice rink has been installed
skates are available for anyone wishing to go skating (sparkly costumes are optional) Why should we miss out on some snow fun and games? If that does not appeal, why not skip the Ski and go straight to the Apres Ski? As always, the hot tub is back up on the north tower - and yes the mini bar is back there too, we still do not have the use of the bungee, (elf and safety)
However, the indoor pool is ready to use, the games room is fully equipped,
the library is fully stocked and has a wide a varied selection of magazines and periodicals, including the latest edition of Crochet for Rugby Scrums
All in all we have a full programme for tonight's meeting.
A warm welcome awaits all who dare enter these portals
carriages at midnight.
Members will please note that the management of the Towers does not accept any liability for any injury sustained on the ski slope or any misuse of equipment. These entertainments are undertaken at members own
risk
Igor has donned his ski salopettes and Plant has taken to wearing silk thermals, there are large screens throughout the Towers showing the action and replays of todays events from the games.
Tonight's menu also reflects the games, on the hot plate tonight we have Fondue! A meaty version, a cheesy version and a sweet chocolate version!
(yumm) On the pudding trolley Black Forest Gateau (is it just me or is there a seventies vibe going on?) Echoing that our favourite local band the Tone Deafs will be playing a selection of seventies hits! Needless to say our customary volly vonts, canopies and horses doovers are also on the menu for tonight. Of course we also have some warming gluhwein and hot rum toddies!
Up in the gallery the Minstrels are warming up, another evening of madrigals and toccattas await us .......................
The fires are all banked up and nice cosy rooms await all who may not wish to indulge in some of our other activities. Talking of "alternatives" we have pushed the boat out, we have a ski slope, and an ice rink has been installed
skates are available for anyone wishing to go skating (sparkly costumes are optional) Why should we miss out on some snow fun and games? If that does not appeal, why not skip the Ski and go straight to the Apres Ski? As always, the hot tub is back up on the north tower - and yes the mini bar is back there too, we still do not have the use of the bungee, (elf and safety)
However, the indoor pool is ready to use, the games room is fully equipped,
the library is fully stocked and has a wide a varied selection of magazines and periodicals, including the latest edition of Crochet for Rugby Scrums
All in all we have a full programme for tonight's meeting.
A warm welcome awaits all who dare enter these portals
carriages at midnight.
Members will please note that the management of the Towers does not accept any liability for any injury sustained on the ski slope or any misuse of equipment. These entertainments are undertaken at members own
risk
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We are extremely lucky that we do not have any rivers close to us. The wind has been very strong. I now have a heavy chair next to my window to hold down the carpet. 1st floor flat, wind coming through a gap between the floorboards and skirting board. Watching the carpet undulate made me feel quite sick.
Against the Towers breakwater,
Only an ominous crashing,
While the wind whines overhead,
Coming down from the Hoolieland mountains,
Whistling between Nungate's arbors, the winding terraces;
A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
And the red light swinging and slamming against the lamp pole.
Where have the ABers gone?
There is one light on the mountain.
Along the Lothian-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,
The waves not yet high, but even,
Coming closer and closer upon each other;
A fine fume or bucket of rain driving in from the sea,
Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of Tony's goatshot,
The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,
Flicking the foam from the whitecaps upwards into the tailcock buckets.
A time to go our MoFC home!--
And Daisy's Eric shift billows upward out of an alley,
A Queenie cat runs from the wind as we do,
Between the whitening trees, up North Berwick,
Where the heavy Igor's door unlocks,
And our breath comes more easy,--
Then a crack of trollish thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over
The steeo-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating
The Tower walls, the slatted windows, the piranhas, driving
The last watcher indoors, moving the AB gambling school closer
To their cards, their anisette.
We creep to our Tower beds, and their straw mattresses.
We wait; we listen.
The storm lulls off, then redoubles,
Bending the trees like asparagus, half-way down to the ground,
Shaking loose the last wizened apples in the orchard,
Flattening Lady J's infamous carnations.
A gness spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,
Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.
The bulb goes on and off, weakly.
Water roars into the Pedant cistern.
We lie closer on the gritty pillow,
Breathing heavily, hoping--
For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,
The flat boom on the Forth beach of the towering sea-swell,
The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-dune collapses,
And the Trigger hurricane drives the dead straw into the pine-tree.
Clean-o-Pine in tailcocks we toast
Our cold feet turning to the fire, our tootsies to roast.
The Tower our fortitude and, in the storm, our lee.
Only an ominous crashing,
While the wind whines overhead,
Coming down from the Hoolieland mountains,
Whistling between Nungate's arbors, the winding terraces;
A thin whine of wires, a rattling and flapping of leaves,
And the red light swinging and slamming against the lamp pole.
Where have the ABers gone?
There is one light on the mountain.
Along the Lothian-wall, a steady sloshing of the swell,
The waves not yet high, but even,
Coming closer and closer upon each other;
A fine fume or bucket of rain driving in from the sea,
Riddling the sand, like a wide spray of Tony's goatshot,
The wind from the sea and the wind from the mountain contending,
Flicking the foam from the whitecaps upwards into the tailcock buckets.
A time to go our MoFC home!--
And Daisy's Eric shift billows upward out of an alley,
A Queenie cat runs from the wind as we do,
Between the whitening trees, up North Berwick,
Where the heavy Igor's door unlocks,
And our breath comes more easy,--
Then a crack of trollish thunder, and the black rain runs over us, over
The steeo-roofed houses, coming down in gusts, beating
The Tower walls, the slatted windows, the piranhas, driving
The last watcher indoors, moving the AB gambling school closer
To their cards, their anisette.
We creep to our Tower beds, and their straw mattresses.
We wait; we listen.
The storm lulls off, then redoubles,
Bending the trees like asparagus, half-way down to the ground,
Shaking loose the last wizened apples in the orchard,
Flattening Lady J's infamous carnations.
A gness spider eases himself down from a swaying light-bulb,
Running over the coverlet, down under the iron bedstead.
The bulb goes on and off, weakly.
Water roars into the Pedant cistern.
We lie closer on the gritty pillow,
Breathing heavily, hoping--
For the great last leap of the wave over the breakwater,
The flat boom on the Forth beach of the towering sea-swell,
The sudden shudder as the jutting sea-dune collapses,
And the Trigger hurricane drives the dead straw into the pine-tree.
Clean-o-Pine in tailcocks we toast
Our cold feet turning to the fire, our tootsies to roast.
The Tower our fortitude and, in the storm, our lee.
