Old Heatonian

Busy Times

We’re now on the last leg of the run up to Christmas and with the holidays approaching, there doesn’t seem to have been a busier time…

What with Christmas shopping (in my mind at least – the actual physical act of shopping is something I prefer not to contemplate until the last minute), departmental disruption at my top secret hush hush job for the government, and the last outstanding tasks to be completed on the couple of websites I am currently working on for various people, I haven’t had much time in the last few days for Old Heatonian.

It’s starting to be a busy old time socially as well – Saturday saw the Grumpy Club decamp from it’s regular haunt in the Kings and get a coach over to Skipton, where we drank a few beers while the girls went and did a bit of shopping round the market, then moved on to the Tempest Arms to tuck into the first Christmas dinner of the season…

After a bit of a false start, involving a late coach (admirably driven by Jeff the driver) and Captain Kidd getting in to the wrong minibus, (frowning as he counted the seats and noted that there weren’t enough available for our party, presumably secretly chuffed though that he had managed to nab one for himself), we were on our way.

On enquiring why the bus had been late, Mark the organiser asked Jeff where he had come from. With a heavy South African accent, Jeff replied ‘Cape Town’, to much mirth, merriment and rubbing of split sides as Mark exclaimed ‘No wonder you were bloody late – we thought you’d got caught up on Manningham Lane’. Really, you couldn’t make this stuff up!

Anyway, at first we were a man down, as Captain Kidds mysterious other half had been called away to more pressing issues in London. However, with the prospect of a free meal wafted under his nose, it didn’t take long for Fanackapan to agree to take her place.

Predictably, Fanackapan spent a good hour before setting off searching frantically for suitable clothing, rejecting a modern business like skirt/jacket/blouse ensemble in favour of a more casual jeans and t-shirt, which went well with his dishevelled blonde wig and lipstick as red as newly spilled blood.

The meal was excellent, and the company superb, although the Captain didn’t seem too impressed by the stand in ‘wife’ we had arranged for him. Most members of the party were pleasantly merry by the time we set off back to Bradford.

Fanackapan melted the hearts of a couple of elderly ladies – Mark had complained to them that Fanackapan was his son and he didn’t know what to do with him – they replied, saying that it was ‘probably just a phase he was going through’ and that he looked ‘perfectly delightful’ as he was.

He didn’t, however, look as delightful later on, with blood streaming out of his nose and his arse hanging out of the window of the bus…

To Be Continued…

Gossip | Funk | December 9, 2009