Well, wouldn't you? I mean, if you knew you were staying at the Del .... and you got a ye olde email from the Del explaining Louisa May Alcott would enjoy nothing more than the pleasure of your company at ye olde Little Women style Christmas eve festivities in the Crystal Room of the Del Coronado ... that christmas eve carols would be sung around a crackling cellophane fireplace and everyone would be wearing Sovereign hill clothes and be pretending to be your relatives ... I mean, would'nt you???
It was a no brainer. DH and I were on to it like a sea gull on a chip, deciding a) surely the Lambs Players would be so bad that they were actually good, and b) wouldn't this be a lovely christmas eve SURPRISE for our husbands!
Once again Peter Ryan's theory that terrible + time = hilarious is proved, because in hindsight it was the most crazy, random, bizarre and hilarious thing EVER! First of all may I say we were at least 20 years younger than most Lambs Players fans, and second of all Brendon immediately spotted the only other gay in the village who looked like he was in shock or had just been slapped in the face for at least the first hour!
If you have ever had the pleasure of the tone, timbre, gusto, and lexicon of the Grafton town crier, then you know the acting style of every member of the lambs Players.
Of course, in our opinion, the two "relatives" assigned to our table were the pick of the crop. First of all, this fabulous Marjorie Maine type woman, and also a lovely gentleman who took an immediate shine to us, and was right on board when we (I) announced it was David's BIRTHDAY!!! Of course hilarious turned to awkward when he asked how OLD David was. "29" I replied! "no, really, HOW OLD" he insisted to the ENTIRE TABLE. "alright, 39" I replied, "NO, come on, how old REALLY" he asked ... oh dear -but David is closer to 39 than 49 - my eyes turned to pins, "46" david blabbed out, whilst not looking a day over 29 to my eyes, yet our new Cousin Seamus was having none of it and started GRILLING David about what year he was born etc. Oh dear - it's all going horribly wrong - thank goodness it is time for the Lambs Players to recite a LONG poem about Christmas in unison as the soup is being served.
Attention finally turned to our dinner companions - two couples old enough to be our grand parents. Brendon was seated next to Leslie Nielson from "Flying high" who blurted out random questions apropo of nothing the entire evening - "Have you ever been to antarctica", "do you know what el capitan is", have you ever slept on the side of a rock in a hammock", "have you ever heard of a man called ansell adams", "what do you call a flock of kangaroos" etc etc etc x 1000, while Gtant's dinner companion had only one question - "do you play golf", "have you ever played golf", "so you don't play golf", "well let me tell you a LONG golf story". My attention turns back to Brendon's dinner partner just as he is asking Brendon if he knows what "BLING" is - apparently its a term for SEQUINS that the kids are using these days. "BLING ..... BLING ... do you know what BLING is"
I never thought I'd be relieved to see Cousin Seamus hovering in the distance about to pounce on David and accuse him of being 300 years old. Mrs Golf is starting to get miffed at being IGNORED (she is wearing so much BLING it is no easy task), so she interrupts Cousin Seamus to report that she and Mr Golf have been to the Lambs Players Christmas eve dinner every year for TEN YEARS and in all the TEN YEARS they have been coming, Cousin Seamus has always been her FAVOURITE Lambs Player.
"Well thankyou dear, but actually I've only been in Lambs Players for 3 years" he replies and turns immediately back to David. (Is he massaging David's back now???) As she fumes in an awkward silence her husband pipes up, "Do you play golf at all?"
Surprisingly the dinner is delicious, but the wine selection is terrible, and the "champagne" we are served for our Christmas eve toast is DEFINATELY MISTER French.
Finally, after aboot 50 or 60 hours the Lambs Players have sung every carol, recited every poem, skipped through every riverdance style dance, paraded around the room with a giant papier mache turkey, and played the spoons and the piano accordian til their fingers are bleeding, and it is time to bid farewell to all the lovely friends we've made and get THE HELL out of there.
We head to the Lobby for some Christmas Eve photo ops by the giant Christmas tree and listen to the Carollers. David spotted a celebrity - the dad in Juno! Does he moonlight as a Lambs Player and we just didn't recognise him in his velveteen pantaloons and fake moustache?
All are agreed we need a STIFF DRINK and we find a dark corner of the seaside bar where a little cover band is playing and its martinis all round!
Around about the time of the third martini, and bucket of salty snacks even though we've just eaten a five course meal from 1900 I decide a lovely espresso martini might be in order. oh. dear. Now, I am used to the cocktail stylings of a delightful cicciolina espresso martini - all espresso, kahlua and vodka with a swizzle stick in the shape of a naked man thankyou very much - but a del coronado espresso martini is a VERY different story - it seems to be swimming in Cottees Chocolate TOPPING!.
That's it - the chocolate topping martini wins, and the four of us teeter to our rooms wondering if santa will find us here in topping drenched 1900.
did anyone call anyone guv'ner?
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