So another weekend of jollies is upon me! Not a moment too soon. Emma has volunteered my quizmaster skills for a quiz night tonight - a sure fire way of making sure our team wins, I'm full of useless facts. It's at her Dad's local social club so that should be interesting....
The last time I was at a social club was in South Wales with my then boyfriend who called himself an "entertainer". He was a singer who'd been performing the same act, right down to the very last word, for about 15 years. I would go round the social clubs, pubs and holiday camps with him, in charge of his sound (fade up, fade down, change disc, play, stop) and I was instrumental in making him learn new songs and adapt to his audience. If I'd had to listen to Hi Ho Silver Lining just one more time I think I would've Hi Ho'd off with someone else.
Those social clubs were rank. Absolutely rank. Especially the ones up in the valleys; skank central. The Welsh Valleys; where men are men and so are the women. Apart from the old dears who drink sherry or half a mild, all the women drink pints of lager and sport giant tattoos. The next time our workers go on strike they should omit the army and bring down the Welsh birds to scare them back into work with their bulldog chewing on a wasp-like faces.
The other thing that sticks in my mind (and my lungs) is how smoky those social clubs used to be. You could walk in and cut the smoke with a knife (either that or get knifed yourself, they were ever so pleasant!). Everybody smoked. The elderly, the middle aged, teens, babies. Well, probably not babies, but I wouldn't be surprised. And they hated the English! I know it's not all Welsh people who hate the English, but in the valleys they'd pass a dying Englishman without stopping to help. It's ok though, the feeling is perfectly mutual.
So there will be no more Blogs until until next week now. We're going to the Zoo on Saturday, which I imagine will provoke memories of those lovely social clubs.
Have a good one!
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