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15 November 2003

The dinner dance, held at the Rob Roy Hotel in Aberfoyle began in the usual club meeting style of dignity and respect, and lets face it, you've got to have respect for someone who wears a bra on his head.  Having arrived in the afternoon after the earlier drinking session, sorry Hill walk, it was surprising to find that the club hadn't been barred from the hotel yet, but the night hadn't started yet so I figured we'll just give it time.
As everyone began gathering in their finery, especially Jackie in her little shorts and T-shirt number, we all began looking forward to the evening. After a few drinks and as the dinner began to progress it was noticed that the entertainment at that time was rather scarce, never one to shy from the limelight Alan boldly took to the stage and performed his now world famous (or infamous depending on which way your looking) magical chicken trick, astounding many of the club members and hotel guests alike, ending in a repeat performance for the SAGA tour group who had all left their glasses on the bedside tables in their rooms and so couldn't see that far. If you haven't yet seen this astounding miracle just ask and I'm sure a show can be arranged.

After the dinner, as the DJ and band began setting up, many of the members began resettling in the bar and began discussing the various hills they had recently walked and where the best pubs were and the end of it, when suddenly out of the darkness of the dance hall came the woolly red balaclava that time forgot. Seeking out its helpless victims it stalked the halls, leaping from perfect hairdo, that had taken a team of experts five hours to create, to perfect hairdo resulting in a total breakdown of self control and the urge to point and laugh overwhelming the entire group.

A photo call was made for all the gents in kilts with the group, and the twinkle in the eyes of the old dears from the bus tour was unmistakable as the hem of a couple of kilts were gripped and a chorus of 1, 2, 3….. was given, but as it turned out it was just time for their nightly Horlicks. The laughter unfortunately stopped when without warning the DJ stopped all the music and began hunting down all the men in kilts (always a bad sign!!!!!) As we were all slowly gathered in some of us were waiting for a chance to show off, and others like myself were mentally bricking it in terror as we feared the worst. Luckily the DJ wasn't as evil or malicious as feared and all that was required was a dance of the Gay Gordon's. PHEEEEWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As the night progressed and slowly one by one the group began to dwindle the excitement again peaked in a hotly contested game of pool. Where, lets face it, everyone was cheating. But as the night came to a close it would definitely be said that a good night was had by all. Including the red woolly balaclava, which by this time was on top of the Christmas tree.

Ewan Reid
Photos:  Irene Cahill & Chris Johnson

Affiliated to:
Mountaineering Council of Scotland
Scottish Youth Hostels Association

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