(no subject)
Well, I survived last week at work, which just leaves two of the little blighters until Christmas.
Further points to note, though, were that Wednesday saw the Cecilian St Andrew's ceilidh unhelpfully midweek. It should have been (and in retrospect was) an omen that the band were called "Scotlands ceilidh band" (sic - no apostrophe) and had seen fit to leave a card for every seat in the room. Which was a shame for them, really as only 30 folk made their way to the GUU.
The band themselves were fairly innocuous and there's nowt much wrong a solitary fiddle and accordion can do wrong. Where they fell down rapidly and heavily, like the giant sperm whale which improbably came into being just above the surface of Magarathea, was with their rapy, rapy caller.
It's one thing to encourage bystanders on to the floor to make up spare sets; it's another entirely to harangue them individually in front of the whole room until they are forced to dance against their will. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been wandering around (and frequently out of) the room with the microphone whilst seemingly texting everyone he'd ever met.
More impressive though was the fact that he managed to be both simultaneously obnoxious and patronising in introducing the world's slowest and introduction free rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Whilst this year's crop of Cecilians are generally quite good at following my random musical instructions, sadly only doughnutdiary was with me on my mission to wreak revenge on the ceilidh band from hell and make them speed up to something approaching tortoise-pace.
The real entertainment came from the auction where Jonathan acquired both a giant axe and a doughnutdiary original ditty; doughnutdiary acquired an eldaros cheesecake for more than the Price of two Bryce; and poor C. Dobie acquired nothing at all.
Friday, too, saw some festive goings-on as the were were allowed on to a boat for the annual office Christmas bash. Fortunately, they didn't let the boat move though. A surprisingly pleasant evening was had, with various piratical accessories, quizzes and musical accompaniments thrown in. Very little in the way of scandal or embarrassments (although last time I said that, I discovered some weeks later to be gravely mistaken) - although I did arrive back in the office today to find at least one e-mail apology for singing at me....
Further points to note, though, were that Wednesday saw the Cecilian St Andrew's ceilidh unhelpfully midweek. It should have been (and in retrospect was) an omen that the band were called "Scotlands ceilidh band" (sic - no apostrophe) and had seen fit to leave a card for every seat in the room. Which was a shame for them, really as only 30 folk made their way to the GUU.
The band themselves were fairly innocuous and there's nowt much wrong a solitary fiddle and accordion can do wrong. Where they fell down rapidly and heavily, like the giant sperm whale which improbably came into being just above the surface of Magarathea, was with their rapy, rapy caller.
It's one thing to encourage bystanders on to the floor to make up spare sets; it's another entirely to harangue them individually in front of the whole room until they are forced to dance against their will. It wouldn't have been so bad if he hadn't been wandering around (and frequently out of) the room with the microphone whilst seemingly texting everyone he'd ever met.
More impressive though was the fact that he managed to be both simultaneously obnoxious and patronising in introducing the world's slowest and introduction free rendition of Auld Lang Syne. Whilst this year's crop of Cecilians are generally quite good at following my random musical instructions, sadly only doughnutdiary was with me on my mission to wreak revenge on the ceilidh band from hell and make them speed up to something approaching tortoise-pace.
The real entertainment came from the auction where Jonathan acquired both a giant axe and a doughnutdiary original ditty; doughnutdiary acquired an eldaros cheesecake for more than the Price of two Bryce; and poor C. Dobie acquired nothing at all.
Friday, too, saw some festive goings-on as the were were allowed on to a boat for the annual office Christmas bash. Fortunately, they didn't let the boat move though. A surprisingly pleasant evening was had, with various piratical accessories, quizzes and musical accompaniments thrown in. Very little in the way of scandal or embarrassments (although last time I said that, I discovered some weeks later to be gravely mistaken) - although I did arrive back in the office today to find at least one e-mail apology for singing at me....