Young ones...

Morning everyone. My ramblings are coming to you today from the Betty Ford Clinic...

They're not really, but looking back on this past few days away with my 'girl family', I think that a few days of drying out might not have been such a bad idea before entering into polite society again.

They are a bad influence my lot, and for someone who considers a strong drink to be one where the tea bag has been left in longer than usual, this has been an interesting few days.  Who knew that it was acceptable to drink Sangria an hour after breakfast?  Mind you, with a hotel full of people who were not only over the hill, but also on the home stretch with the finishing line in view, drinking my way through the various entertainments was a great help.

Not all the evening entertainment was bad.  Our good friend Gordon Williams put on a great show on Friday night and got everyone up dancing.  This was all going rather well until Miss R and Mrs B decided that the poor man needed a couple of backing singers for his version of 'Teddy Bear'.  There was a lot of bad singing, violent abuse with inflatable toys (don't ask) and we felt that it really cheered the audience up.

At breakfast on Saturday morning, I was nursing a sore head and gazing mournfully at my breakfast when a shadow fell across my plate.  

'What did you think of the entertainment last night then?' It was a chap I'd crossed paths with a couple of times already (once in the lift and another at the tea urn).  'I thought it was very loud.  So loud in fact that I had to turn my hearing aid off'.

Ever the diplomat, I said something along the lines of hoping that 'it hadn't spoiled his evening too much'.

'Even with it switched off, I could still bloody well hear it so I went to bed in the end'.  Obviously, by the way the conversation went on, he still hadn't switched it back on again as his responses had no bearing on anything I was saying to him.  

'Perhaps tonight will be a little quieter on the entertainment front?'

'Thursday afternoon.  Can't come quick enough'.

And it only got worse.

On Sunday morning (after another night of yelling and whooping on the dance floor) an elderly lady wandered past our breakfast table.  I was the only one down which says a lot.

'On your own then?' she asked.  'Youngsters not made it down yet?'

I took it on the chin, saying something about kids theses days having 'no stamina', but Miss R and Mrs B (both of whom are but two years younger than me) have yet to let this one go.

Mind you, by the end of the four days, I did feel more 85 than 55.....


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