We Know How to Enjoy Ourselves
Since electricity came to Cranspoon Towers 3 years ago, we've really been able to let our hair down. Gone are the days of 8-hour Scrabble marathons on Friday nights and Monopoly lasting all through winter. Now we have the juice, we can party!!
Here's a typical Tuesday evening, just after we had washed and dried the pots and pans, secured the goats in their pen, and fed the rabbits. It all starts with the crew assembling in the pavilion lounge chanting "let's get rockin'":
So we get the toys out of the cupboard, and give them an outing. That's Mark on stun-bass, Bun on the pans, Robbie on vocals, and me clutching a rusty old stick:
Bun IS the world's number 1 drummer; Phil C*llins could not wipe his arse:
BTW - that's not a microphone in front of Mark - it's a clever 100db attenuator to cut the sound from his mouth down to something that won't damage your ears. Ear-damage is most assuredly the job of his Trace Elliot / Peavey combination (pardon?):
Despite all the jollities in the pavilion lounge, some guests prefer to tuck themselves up in the cloakroom and provide their own entertainment (in this case, the locally popular past-time of trying on other peoples' sweaters):
More to follow if no legal actions are initiated based on the above.