Harrogate Review
By
Tweet Nightingale.
So, Harrogate has come and gone, and with it more laughs, more memories, and more than a few hang-overs.
Friday was its usual self, meeting and greeting, smiles, hugs, kisses – all evidence of the great esprit de corps that brings us back together year after year.
Friday night however was different this year, for we found ourselves sharing the hotel with a few hundred young lovelies from the farming community. They took the place over, effortlessly changing from wellies and overalls into evening-wear, and in the process dazzling most of us with their elegance and glamour.
But despite this intrusion, old stories were being raked over again, and as always, embellished beyond belief. The more alcohol was taken, the more fact and fiction quickly became merged – and the bitter-sweet smell of bullshit was soon embracing us all!
Saturday morning many of our members set off at the crack of dawn to revisit old haunts at Richmond and Catterick. Apparently all had a good time, but significantly, most needed a lay-down when they got back. Surely these can’t be the same people that used to spend all weekend drinking, dancing and partying, can it?
Saturday evening’s celebrations were heralded in with the usual fiasco that is the group photo. Iain Haldane was in commanding form, but even he cannot control the comic forces that combined once again to ensure that not everybody made it in time! (Just how much time do your need, Gwen? You started on your make-up after breakfast!)
Everybody looked wonderful, and it was obvious early on that this evening was going to be a bit special. The function room looked lovely, the tables set beautifully. How much lovelier it would have looked had there been wine to pour into those lovely glasses! Am I alone in thinking that it may have been a nice idea to buy some wine for each table from funds?
The food failed to rise above mediocre, but the company and atmosphere were wonderful. The formalities were respectfully observed, and then the music started. Almost immediately the dance-floor turned into a melee of writhing, twisting, tormented bodies. For a while the Gallaghers made the dance floor their own – jiving around like a couple of teenagers (they were to pay the price the following morning – when Pat arrived at breakfast amidst a cloud of Sloanes Liniment!). Dave (the Rave) Aldous and Ian (Peter Pan) Buckley then set the floor alight, and were seen pushing their tortured limbs harder and harder in pursuit of that one perfect dance movement – they failed miserably! It was a futile effort anyway, because there was one outstanding dancer that night (no, no, no – surprisingly, not me) and that was the lovely Sheila. She was a symphony of grace and movement, and more importantly boys she didn’t even break into a sweat.
All too soon the music ended, but it had been a wonderful time, the music had been delightful, the atmosphere magical.
Rave on Chris Bartlett, Rave on!
Your dream is in good hands.
Sunday morning’s club meeting was, as usual, a little difficult to follow for some of us. Nevertheless, some decisions were made, some unmade, and some not made at all. So business as usual then!
Out of it came a new Chair, a nice sofa and a couple of nice cushions (sorry couldn’t resist it!).
There will never be a full consensus of opinion, but it is surely time we all decided what we want and what we don’t want.
Let me start it off – I don’t want another I.D. card, I definitely do not want another ball-pen, especially when we spend over two hundred pounds on them! I don’t want any kind of constitution, I don’t want a top table, and, I wish I didn’t feel like crying whenever I see one of us struck down by illness!
OK? Your turn! Let’s have some honesty on our web site; after all it’s your club. If we can’t say what we feel then how far have we come, and more importantly how much farther can we go?
Sunday evening came all too quickly, but it was a splendid evening and a great way to round everything off. Sid and Bridget had obviously done a terrific amount of work on the evening’s entertainment, and were well-rewarded with a wonderful reception from those fortunate to have been there. They were ably assisted by the usual suspects, but a special mention to John Hodkin who is always looking for any excuse to jump into his wife’s clothes (can’t say I blame him), but he really should realise he is never going to get into a size 10 again!
It was good to see the Ripon Rotarian Ramblers stomping their way across the dance-floor, and they certainly seemed to be enjoying themselves. It speaks volumes that not only were they made welcome by us, but our kind friendly masseur (Greasy Gordon) even offered to give them all a good rub-down!
Inevitably Monday came, and with it, memories already forming, tears and smiles, promises and kisses. Isn’t it always the way?
In finishing I should like to say that it is an absolute delight to see the way our less-fortunate members are fighting the good fight against ill-fortunes. So I should like to say on everyone’s behalf, if I may, that the strength and courage you show in making the journey to the reunion is nothing short of awe inspiring. So to you all, a million thanks for continually reminding us what real strength of spirit is.
The true spirit of Chris lives on in all of you and your carers. Our hearts are full of admiration and love.
To you all
Stay Well
Tweet
Onward to Newquay.