Reminding myself and some friends about the simple joys of well-spent youth fun, I organised a treasure hunt to mark a birthday.
Clues were (badly) rhyming and delivered ahead of the big day on Saturday and clad in pastel colours with a promise of intrigue.
Starting with fun on the farm at Craigies the next envelope led us across the bridge...
It took us all on a journey of not only childhood rediscovery but of new discoveries. Namely in the shape of bingo.
Following the hilarity of 18 holes of mini golf we sauntered unsuspectingly towards the bingo hall.
I admit to never having been in one before and although I accept all forthcoming mocking, have no real clue how to play.
I also arrived with a clear misunderstanding of how much outward fun one is permitted to have at such an establishment.
Which is essentially none. It is the most serious fun I have ever sat through.
Shortly after Bingo 101 was delivered and our ‘free’ pens were issued, we were led to a table suspiciously near to the caller. So very close, I assume, to ensure all misbehaviour would be quickly stamped out. A loud reminder was then issued (pointedly aimed in our direction) that no talking AT ALL, was permitted during the rounds...or whatever they are called.
Deathly silence ensued for an hour, except of course for the gleeful yelps of delights from souls more fortunate or more observant than us.
It was nervewracking and tense but not unenjoyable. In fact there was a definite element of unexpected adrenaline that I look forward to repeating. Yes, now I have a membership card, I will be back!