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Mad Over Fifties Club
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Welcome to tonight's meeting of the Mad Over Fifties Club. Tonight we are having a (slightly late) Halloween Party. Our resident mixologist has brewed a Tailcock especially for tonight's meeting "the Vampire Breath" guaranteed to pop the pennies from the eyes of the dead! Truly a potent brew!! Our Hot Plate Special is Halloween Hash, in addition we have a delicious selection of horses doovers, volley vonts and canopies, and owing to a plentiful harvest, we have Apple pie, Apple Brown Betty, Apple Crumble and Toffee Apples on the pudding trolley!! All of the apples are from our own orchards of course.
As a special treat, tonight we have once again engaged the services of the Crypt Kicker Five, direct from their tour of Transylvania and Croydon. Of course the Minstrels are again back in the gallery with their usual selection of madrigals and fugues. Igor has found some delicate chains to decorate his walking plaster and crutches (let's hope he does not fall over them..again!) The Towers ghost, Sir Cumference has promised to come and "haunt" our revelries, and Horace has agreed to leave his nice damp dungeon to come and join in the proceedings. Our local Coven has agreed to come and dance around a bonfire and the head of the coven, Madame Spellman will be holding a spelling bee in the conservatory (please note, to take care not to disturb the triffid or the upset the spider monkey, though visitors are permitted to help themselves to the bananas).
For those of you arriving by broom, we are delighted to announce that there will be a small party in the small saloon on the first floor of the west tower. Dooking for apples has been arranged as has an eating treacle scones competition. The hot tub and bungee are available for members and use of the indoor pool is also there for members, (cossies are provided)
For the rofl tonight:
one Halloween mask
bowl of Halloween candies (two left)
one witches cauldron (in need of scouring)
set of vampire fangs
As a special treat, tonight we have once again engaged the services of the Crypt Kicker Five, direct from their tour of Transylvania and Croydon. Of course the Minstrels are again back in the gallery with their usual selection of madrigals and fugues. Igor has found some delicate chains to decorate his walking plaster and crutches (let's hope he does not fall over them..again!) The Towers ghost, Sir Cumference has promised to come and "haunt" our revelries, and Horace has agreed to leave his nice damp dungeon to come and join in the proceedings. Our local Coven has agreed to come and dance around a bonfire and the head of the coven, Madame Spellman will be holding a spelling bee in the conservatory (please note, to take care not to disturb the triffid or the upset the spider monkey, though visitors are permitted to help themselves to the bananas).
For those of you arriving by broom, we are delighted to announce that there will be a small party in the small saloon on the first floor of the west tower. Dooking for apples has been arranged as has an eating treacle scones competition. The hot tub and bungee are available for members and use of the indoor pool is also there for members, (cossies are provided)
For the rofl tonight:
one Halloween mask
bowl of Halloween candies (two left)
one witches cauldron (in need of scouring)
set of vampire fangs
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Evening nungate and friends. Battled against he wind to get here.
For the rifle I have: a decorative fastening from a Hussar's jacket, A portable stove for drying out a building under construction, a website, a tradescantia and my spare cooking pot. Did not like to give their real names.
There are still some flatfish about. Sure you can work it out.
A Vampire Breath would be reviving.
For the rifle I have: a decorative fastening from a Hussar's jacket, A portable stove for drying out a building under construction, a website, a tradescantia and my spare cooking pot. Did not like to give their real names.
There are still some flatfish about. Sure you can work it out.
A Vampire Breath would be reviving.
Alone by the banks of the dark-rolling Nungate river
Fair Daisy hied when the battle was o’er:
“O whither,” she cried, “hast thou wandered, my lover?
Or here dost thou welter, and bleed on the moat shore?
“What voice did I hear? ’T was my Tone Hussar that sighed!”
All mournful she hastened, nor wandered she far,
The wind howling the night dank and low, on the heath she descried,
By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar!
From his bosom that heaved the last Boddingtons was streaming,
And pale was his visage, deep marked with a scar;
And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming,
That melted in Aston Villa and that kindled in the bar!
How smit was poor Daisy’s heart at the sight!
How bitter she wept o’er the victim of war!
“Hast thou come, my fond goat Love, this last sorrowful night,
To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?”
“Thou shalt live,” she replied, “Heaven’s mercy, relieving
Each anguishing Villa loss shall forbid me to mourn!”
“Ah, no! the last pang in my bosom is heaving!
No light of the morn shall to Tony return!
“Thou keeper of goats, ever tender and true;
Ye babes of my love that await me afar!”—
His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu,
When he sunk in her arms,— the poor wounded Tony Hussar!
Fair Daisy hied when the battle was o’er:
“O whither,” she cried, “hast thou wandered, my lover?
Or here dost thou welter, and bleed on the moat shore?
“What voice did I hear? ’T was my Tone Hussar that sighed!”
All mournful she hastened, nor wandered she far,
The wind howling the night dank and low, on the heath she descried,
By the light of the moon, her poor wounded Hussar!
From his bosom that heaved the last Boddingtons was streaming,
And pale was his visage, deep marked with a scar;
And dim was that eye, once expressively beaming,
That melted in Aston Villa and that kindled in the bar!
How smit was poor Daisy’s heart at the sight!
How bitter she wept o’er the victim of war!
“Hast thou come, my fond goat Love, this last sorrowful night,
To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?”
“Thou shalt live,” she replied, “Heaven’s mercy, relieving
Each anguishing Villa loss shall forbid me to mourn!”
“Ah, no! the last pang in my bosom is heaving!
No light of the morn shall to Tony return!
“Thou keeper of goats, ever tender and true;
Ye babes of my love that await me afar!”—
His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu,
When he sunk in her arms,— the poor wounded Tony Hussar!
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