Issue Two – The Great Organist v Singer Contest
While the weather caused the postponement of Northern Ireland v Russia Association Football Match and hence the postponement of yet another hammering, Falls Male Bowlers proved they were made of sterner stuff. After a pitch ( or is it green? ) inspection and a similar inspection of the optics and the pumps, it was decided to go ahead with the Opening Day. The patrons of the Tab bar got stuck in as if there was no tomorrow. I had originally decided to have a few quiet pints with my son at 12.45pm before the guests filtered into the back room at 2.00pm. But at 12.50pm just barely into my first double whiskey the order came from Pat Butler MSc to ditch the casuals and don blazer, tie and shirt to receive the early guests, leaving my son to finish my barely started libation. I had to scurry to the Jocks Locker room to don the appropriate gear and appear with a smile as large as Liberace and just as ingenuous! The words Popeye and cans of spinach again come to mind as I struggled to provide refreshing beverages for the thirsty throng. And by the way, to those who tried to give me empty glasses as I was dispensing the beverages, I would just like to remind them that I was not a waiter but the Hospitality Manager!!!
In Arctic conditions, the colour party left base camp to hoist the flag and unlike the famous Captain Oates from Scott’s ill fated expedition to the South Pole who said he was going out and may be some time, the dignitaries scuttled up to the flagpole, where they were outnumbered by the photographers, did the business and scuttled back again quicker than Liam Loughran can put away a platter of sandwiches ( that quick eh?).
The caterers again did us proud. I made the mistake of sitting beside Pat Butler MSc and Kevin Brennan so any chance of extras was non existent. They hoovered up the beef, fought over the last carrot on Paul McGeough’s plate and just stopped short of licking the remaining chocolate off all the rest of the plates at the neighboring tables.
The backroom singing was as usual high on entertainment value with the singers involved in a tussle with the organist to see whose key would prevail. Both myself and Sean Magorrian sadly lost out. I have to say that the high point of the afternoon was when Martin Short pulled out his flageolet in view of the assembled masses!
Congrats once again to Jim McCormick for his MC skills. Perhaps next year he could factor in some Dad Dancing. I know there are a few keen to do it ( there George, I told you I would ask!)
Having had more than my normal post prandial sherries, I proceeded to try to make off with Michael Meehan’s jacket having extricated his wallet to my back pocket, where my own already was for safekeeping. Well…both jackets were the same size after all!
And talking about stealing, who once upon a time ate poor Jim Copeland’s apple tart!!
Some people have greatness thrust upon them, some earn it by pure talent. I however got mine by buying the right people drink and laughing at Dan Cregan’s jokes hence my appointment as Captain of the Midweek Team. In addition - as already mentioned I was put in charge of the hospitality bar for the aforesaid Opening Day. The Selectors and Bowling Committee could end up regretting both decisions when the results and the tabs come in!!
Only kidding folks – a privilege and an honour to do the first and a pleasure ( hic!) to do the second.
Too late for the last issue – should Sean Grant now be called Sean Grand after his Lotto win? I just want you to know Sean that I love you very much. I just married off my daughter and bought a new car so any help would be greatly appreciated!!!
While the weather caused the postponement of Northern Ireland v Russia Association Football Match and hence the postponement of yet another hammering, Falls Male Bowlers proved they were made of sterner stuff. After a pitch ( or is it green? ) inspection and a similar inspection of the optics and the pumps, it was decided to go ahead with the Opening Day. The patrons of the Tab bar got stuck in as if there was no tomorrow. I had originally decided to have a few quiet pints with my son at 12.45pm before the guests filtered into the back room at 2.00pm. But at 12.50pm just barely into my first double whiskey the order came from Pat Butler MSc to ditch the casuals and don blazer, tie and shirt to receive the early guests, leaving my son to finish my barely started libation. I had to scurry to the Jocks Locker room to don the appropriate gear and appear with a smile as large as Liberace and just as ingenuous! The words Popeye and cans of spinach again come to mind as I struggled to provide refreshing beverages for the thirsty throng. And by the way, to those who tried to give me empty glasses as I was dispensing the beverages, I would just like to remind them that I was not a waiter but the Hospitality Manager!!!
In Arctic conditions, the colour party left base camp to hoist the flag and unlike the famous Captain Oates from Scott’s ill fated expedition to the South Pole who said he was going out and may be some time, the dignitaries scuttled up to the flagpole, where they were outnumbered by the photographers, did the business and scuttled back again quicker than Liam Loughran can put away a platter of sandwiches ( that quick eh?).
The caterers again did us proud. I made the mistake of sitting beside Pat Butler MSc and Kevin Brennan so any chance of extras was non existent. They hoovered up the beef, fought over the last carrot on Paul McGeough’s plate and just stopped short of licking the remaining chocolate off all the rest of the plates at the neighboring tables.
The backroom singing was as usual high on entertainment value with the singers involved in a tussle with the organist to see whose key would prevail. Both myself and Sean Magorrian sadly lost out. I have to say that the high point of the afternoon was when Martin Short pulled out his flageolet in view of the assembled masses!
Congrats once again to Jim McCormick for his MC skills. Perhaps next year he could factor in some Dad Dancing. I know there are a few keen to do it ( there George, I told you I would ask!)
Having had more than my normal post prandial sherries, I proceeded to try to make off with Michael Meehan’s jacket having extricated his wallet to my back pocket, where my own already was for safekeeping. Well…both jackets were the same size after all!
And talking about stealing, who once upon a time ate poor Jim Copeland’s apple tart!!
Some people have greatness thrust upon them, some earn it by pure talent. I however got mine by buying the right people drink and laughing at Dan Cregan’s jokes hence my appointment as Captain of the Midweek Team. In addition - as already mentioned I was put in charge of the hospitality bar for the aforesaid Opening Day. The Selectors and Bowling Committee could end up regretting both decisions when the results and the tabs come in!!
Only kidding folks – a privilege and an honour to do the first and a pleasure ( hic!) to do the second.
Too late for the last issue – should Sean Grant now be called Sean Grand after his Lotto win? I just want you to know Sean that I love you very much. I just married off my daughter and bought a new car so any help would be greatly appreciated!!!