no make that fourteen
Funny how things ain’t what they seem… I’ve flown home on the bicycle and literally flew up the stairs dived under the shower and scrubbed, took my time over a ‘close shave’, cleaned the pearly whites and put on my glad rags… We are going out for Dinner @ the Hamilton Princess Hotel! This is going to be classy, I mean I’m comfortable and relaxed – like heck this is one of the “top Hotels” on the rock. Mega $’s are going to be spent, its OK I want to do this especially with ‘D’. This is the night that was prepaid by our workmates back in Carnarvon; a generous farewell gesture “Go and enjoy dinner on us” was the message so why I am nervous? OK, the taxi arrives in plenty of time and we off to dinner. Here in Bermuda, the Taxi drivers make you feel like royalty – the door is opened and closed for you, you are greeted with a warm “Good evening” the drive is pleasantly sedate [there’s no rush or need for speed], the Taxi’s are pristinely clean… I could go on and on… [Royalty now speaks – I’m feeling quite princely] We arrived at the main entrance of the ‘Hamilton’ where the doorman opens the taxi door, tenders a hand to ‘D’ as she alights and offers a greeting of ‘Good evening’ as he pulls the main entrance doors open wide for our entry into the resplendent foyer. To our left is the cocktail bar, directly in front the doors leads to the Garden Restaurant and gardens overlooking the harbour and on the right I notice the reception desk and Concierge. ‘D’ whispers that we need to go to the left past the cocktail bar and up the stairs to the restaurant. We casually with a high degree of élan walk past the ‘Thank God Its Friday crowd’ and lo and behold…
…there’s about 200 hundred ‘bleeding tourists’ waiting to get into the Restaurant. As this
small piece of visual information starts to penetrate my brain, I’m being introduced to
twelve I kid you not! of ‘D’ work colleagues… wha! wha!! what!!…who will be dining with us. Dreamtime is over. We had booked for the theatre in the round floor show called “Toni and Tina’s Wedding” So here I am seated at a table with 13 women who all happen to be Midwives [completely inconsequential piece of trivia there] when we were approached by the effeminate Brides brother “Sir may I ask who are these women?”
Me: “I’m a Mormon and these are my wives”
this did actually raise a laugh from the table… One of the Bridesmaids had asked the attending ‘paying guests’ to perform a rehearsal of a wedding hymn. Then the “Wedding Function Manager” [WFM] appears.
WFM: “Sir why aren’t you singing?”
Me: “I’m not allowed to sing not even under the shower”
WFM with the dirtiest look I’ve ever encountered “Sir, you will sing!” which I did.
WFM”see that didn’t hurt” Me, thinking, “Did you notice the look of anguish on those 13 faces?” The WFM made a mistake and later picked me to dance little realising that I would take her hand and Jive – her comment was “You got me a mean payback there” [unfortunately one of my ‘wives’ commented that I looked like Cliff Richards on the dance floor – I now have only 12 wives]. ‘D’ was dragged up onto the floor-stage, given a cowboy hat for a rendition of ‘YMCA’ No-one was safe from the cast. What a blast, it had everything: the obnoxious inebriated groom’s father and his 20 yr Floosie; the inebriated mate who wasn’t invited; a very pregnant Matron of Honour etc. Plus one table of tourists was a gathering of religious Ministers – did they cop a few sly digs as the night went on. The Floosie did a table top dance for money, and the antics of the Groom and his mates were a treat to see. WFM spent part of the evening trying to tip the ‘paying guests’ undrunk Champagne back into the bottle for the next ‘Wedding Reception’ she never got a drop… Anyway we thoroughly enjoyed the evening what with the dramatics presented by the cast, the interaction that they created with the tables.
Thanks Carnarvon for a wonderful evening.