All the Bingo Halls have closed down and turned into Poundland now. I'm expected to play Bingo on-line these days. I mean, really!! How can that hope to recreate the hushed expectancy of ranks of blue rinses awaiting the cry of "HOUSE!" and the following groan of disappointment ... how do I crane my neck to catch a glimpse of the lucky wotsit that won (whilst softly cursing under my breath)?
Not to mention the interval, standing in line for a cup of lukewarm tea and a slightly curly ham sandwich, shooting the breeze with the other wrinklies arthritically jostling for the last buttered scone under the greasy cheese dome?
And the between-game hands of Gin Rummy played for a penny a point (all faithfully recoded in a little red notebook - Mrs Miggins still owes me four shillings, I do believe).
Where's the sound of 300 bingo markers gently dob-dobbing in response to the jolly and irreverant cries of the bow-tied Caller?
Gone is the soft titter following the shout of "Two fat ladies, number 88" (no matter how many times you'd heard it).
Now I am expected to 'enjoy' the sterile and silent loneliness of prodding my keyboard in solitude instead of immersing myself in what was a very socially interactive gathering.
Progress. BAH !!!
Le Chat Guerrier
Bwian's Towel & Grief Shop
11-Mar-2015 09:23:43
- Last edited on
11-Mar-2015 09:25:32
by
FiFi LaFeles