Now I wouldn’t want you to think that we’ve been up to nothing but do-gooding these past weeks… Those of you that know us will be relieved to hear that there has been the usual amount of getting-up-to-mischief and having fun too! Now, where to start?
MYM is known for its live-aboard parties in the Winter. At least one a month. Preferably with a theme. Often fancy dress. Usually with stoopid dancing. Always fuelled by alcohol.
“I know, let’s dress up as creepy Victorian men in top hats, build a coffin and carry Liz into the bar.” That’ll be a laugh, won’t it? “Oh yeah, hic, I’m up for it”, says Liz. Two weeks later it’s happening. Never has so much blood, sweat, swearing and tears gone into building a fancy dress “outfit”, I can tell you. Come the day, not a coffin or hat in sight…
Still, we pulled it off. Sawing, spray-painting, cutting-out, sticking-on, more spray-painting, hat-sizing, face-painting, hair-stiffening, nailing, ripping. On and on we all worked, till by sundown it was finished. The final stage was everyone gathered on Esper for the finishing touches. Seeing craggy Pete from Skye daintily applying foundation followed by powder was worth the aggro. The sight of 7 grown men offering tentative tips to each other as they learned the secret art of applying nail varnish (black) was like watching a baby take it’s first steps. I grew very proud of them all that night.
So it was that this un-Godly lot lifted up the coffin, with me in it, onto their shoulders and headed to the bar. The top hats worked superbly and added a theatrical highlight to the spectacle. Ahead of us ran and danced Kubi, who was a sort of goblin-cum-Puck figure, with a clanging bell. We walked in and received a collective gasp, silence and finally applause. To say we were chuffed would be an understatement. Of course, as I was inside the coffin I missed all this. The boys settled the coffin onto 3 stools, Kubi recited some gobble-de-gook and I made my own entrance. With a knife I cut through the lid (a black sheet) and hammed it up as I appeared, to great applause.
The night was a great success and most people made a great effort to dress up. Lord knows what our Turkish cousins made of it all as they looked on with sometimes terrified and laughing faces. We had to pose for lots of photos and re-enact the entrance and my appearance for the cameras. Our photos have been in the papers and the film has been on tv, but we haven’t seen it.
We were the last to leave the bar.
Not wishing to make spectacles of ourselves again Jamie and I went as Hendrix (with a 12” spliff behind his ear) and his Biba bird. Frighteningly we didn’t have to buy any of the clothes as they were all available on board. Maybe I really am an old hippy… but Jamie?
After handing out the raffle ticket prizes the party went into school disco meltdown. At the end we had a fantastic punk session on the dance floor, with Kev splitting his trousers and Paul (for once, as he’s the dj) getting up and pogo-ing with the rest of us. Wot a larf!
We were the last to leave the bar.
This time it was not a fancy-dress event (although you could have fooled me with some of the outfits. Ha! Ha!). Instead we had a “review” by the MYLADS (Marmaris Yottie Live-aboard Amateur Dramatics Society). This time we refused to be included because we just wanted to sit back and enjoy ourselves as spectators for once. Yup. Not getting involved. No sirree…
Little clip of the Urinal Sketch, something Graham of ‘Eeyore’, Paul of ‘Antigua Lady’ and Jamie performed at the Christmas Review.
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