Lottie gets Festive
What do you do with a nicely restored car? Keep it nice and shiny and run it on dry sunny days or as they say on Top Gear “do as God intended – drive the wheels off!”
Being a god fearing Derbyshire Firkin Flyer there is no real choice so despite the best of (or maybe the worst of) the wind and rain Lottie took us to the Christmas bash at the Royal Oak.
If you saw a black and yellow Citroen 2CV Charleston being driven by a guy in a pudding basin helmet, goggles and flying white scarf and accompanied by a biker chick it could have been us as the party theme was Mods and Rockers. What a line up of festive bikers and Mods and what a revealing insight to find Derbyshire folk have so much imagination and sheer pluck to be out in public dressed as they were. If you get a trivia question about Satan's Snails or was it Santa's Snails DFF Chapter the answer is yes.
The meal was superb and only £14.95 a head so Lottie took us home stuffed with roast duck starters, venison and a superb pudding. We even had a £5.00 present each as everyone took one. Next year the giving of pressurised water rifles to males will be banned but the promotion of mechaniking to ladies with the gift of tools combined with smellies should be encouraged. My problem is how to make the “paint your own piggy bank” present, resemble a Citroen 2CV.
After such a Christmas event Lottie just had to visit the New Years Eve celebration. As usual it was a themed event – vaguely Scottish we believe! This appears - to a relative newcomer and non medical person – to be a basic human need for the Derbyshire Firkin Flyers to dress up whenever they go out. Yet again the eye opening experience of Christmas was repeated. Following the mods with the shortest skirts we had the maids with the shortest kilts and one enterprising soul kitted out in cardboard as Edinburgh Castle complete with uplifting drawbridge. Some said it worked by strings. Others decided it was the mini kilts. The Wookie sporran kept following these Firkin dames.........
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Wookie sporran and short kilts |
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Our room at the Royal Oak had a corner full of strangers – local cavers who seemed bemused by the fancy or short dresses! Maybe it was the sight of Firkin ladies adjusting the shirts of Firkin Gents from below their kilt. Who will ever know? Does this not simply demonstrate a close knit 2CV group? They soon got challenged to the final round of the great 2CV Track race. 4 Teams of odd numbers (everyone in the room) threw dice to drive their car around a figure of eight track for 2 hours. Like real 2CV racing it took that long to do 2 ¾ laps when a draw was called between the Cavers in a 2CV and the Mehari team. The winners all got lollipops. The Ami and Dyane Teams were devastated at losing but may return in 2007 with tuned cars if they can soberly recall the event.
Why did the race take 2 hours? It was so realistic of course. Drivers had to be forced to race their car due to the fear of this figure 8 course, which during the evening, was twice washed away by beer floods. The penalties for unwary drivers was a personal challenge to even the strongest. Landing on a Lube stop resulted in every team member drinking 3 fingers from their glasses, a Fuel top put the driver into a special chair where after the application of a blindfold he or she might face a spoonful of cold porridge, mincemeat, horseradish, sliced lemon with extras or even a dreaded kebab – the devils mix of everything from pasta to onions and bananas!
As a new member and cold porridge eater I was assured a full risk assessment had been made and basic food hygiene rules applied even though the event had been originated on a club member’s kitchen floor. I chose to believe what I was told and understand we have yet to loose a Firkin member from food poisoning.
That got us to midnight when we had a second Firkin miracle. Earlier one member entertained us with tunes on his accordion - amazing after only 8 weeks ownership but we understand he can play almost anything. As Big Ben struck 12 the sound of the bagpipes shattered the silence and in came a Firkin short kilted maid with big breaths playing Scotland the Brave. It almost made me recall the cold porridge I had supped earlier. So festive I almost choked.
Kisses, hugs and handshakes all round and Lottie was ready to take us home another 60 mile round trip achieved in style.
If you buy me a pint I might tell you how we got spaghetti on the ceiling and walls of the pub but that’s another story.
Last updated: 03 May 2008