Something else to polish

The bowling club dinner dance was unlike any other event I have attended. I was certainly in a minority in that I was under the age of forty. (I think I was on my own in that respect). At a guess there were four of us under fifty.

I found the 'ceremony' fainting bewildering and embarrassing. We had to be upstanding for the President and his guests while they made their way to the top table accompanied by a slow hand clap. Grace took me totally by surprise. I was upstanding for the toast to the Queen but kept my mouth firmly shut and failed to take a swig of my wine. I toasted 'the club' and was again confused by the toast to 'the ladies and their guests.' I was clearly there with C. not the other way around. The most daring thing I did all night was point out we weren't married so my place name was wrong. Emma Jones! Never!

The food was stuck in the seventies (more details here) and the entertainment was keen on the fifties. I have to say they could sing and were just about right given the mix of people in the (very draughty) hall. I surprised quite a few as I joined in with what was termed the London medley - Henry the Eighth I am, Knees up Muvver Brown and the like. Memories of family shindigs on New Year's Eve in Bethnal Green and Hackney came flooding back.

On the way there C. pointed out we hadn't brought a bag for the three trophies. It got worse when we realised he was actually receiving six - three individuals and three perpetuals he would return next year. Someone found us a flat fruit box which we covered with the duvet we won in the raffle so no-one mugged us on the two mile walk home.