We welcomed 20 stalwart souls who wandered in from the chilly and
moist outdoors.
All were enthusiastic to perform.
… but who is MC?
“Oh, it should be Mike,” said Lynda after consulting her extensive database.
Mike arrived in good time and we had sufficient bodies to pay the rent.
A prompt start was only slightly delayed as the Whyke Lane Woodwind
Ensemble retreated to that little room to rehearse something they’d never done together before.
(Don’t worry, it wasn’t apparent in performance!)
With just one week to go before our special Christmas celebration, many
offerings had a seasonal flavour. There was a smattering of holiness, considerable
frivolity and good cheer, rustic metaphor, a song about parental disapproval
and one mention of a train.
One woodwind player demonstrated the impossibility of playing the
recorder with gloved hands.
Tony acquired the description of being an isomorph, whatever that may mean.
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| Is there a God above? |
 |
| Look what we've just seen! |
 |
| I hung at Tyburn ... |
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| A thoroughbred racing donkey. |
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| I'm only doing zeds! |
Be assured ...
- All amorous encounters were pure fantasy, as was any aerial activity in the company of Father Christmas.
- All mutilations and deaths were entirely fictional, or matters of historical reportage.
- No donkeys or penguins were harmed in this production.
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