The Richmoor Hotel where we were staying – owned
and operated by Loraine, an LDS single sister – was built in the 1700s as
Weymouth was developing as a boom resort community: this due to the fact that
King George III, subsequently known as ‘the King Who Lost America,’ had adopted the seaside village as his summer holiday
residence. A
long, continuous arc of Edwardian terraced homes built during this
period make up the esplanade which faces Weymouth Bay, and it was here that our
hotel was located. Besides the affiliation with the King, Weymouth is also the
spot from whence American soldiers, in the year 1944, boarded landing ships for
the Norman Invasion of France, later to be known as D-Day. Also historically, novelist Thomas Hardy lived and worked in Weymouth for a number of
years. Diggory Venn in Hardy's ‘The Return of the Native’ describes the
excitement of Weymouth, where ‘out of every ten folk you meet nine of ’em in
love’.
Most recently, this past summer, it had
the honor of being the site for London 2012 Olympic and Paralympic sailing.
Carole, Jane and I shared a room, decorated really
nicely (see below). We had a view of the ocean from our large, veranda-ed
window. (Never did get out on that veranda – too busy and sometimes it was
raining. Shucks, I REALLY wanted to get a picture from below of Carole and me
sitting there in all that pampered luxury. Another time, another life! Actually
. . . as it turns out, the date of this convention had been the exception, as
Loraine usually hosts this event in early spring, and will do so again in 2013.
Hurray – ya know where I'll be next year at that time!)
Being there in the hotel reminded me a lot of the
feeling I had of being on the one cruise I’ve had the privilege to experience.
You have your own little haven, with roommates (mine had been Aurora and
Berlin, back in the day, in the Caribbean), then flights of stairs up and down
from the rendezvous areas. Plenty of fantastic food, great company, free to
come and go and do whatsoever your little heart desires, whenever you want. No
restrictions, nobody telling you that you MUST do this or that – or NOT. (Wow! what a feeling. You all should have the
chance for an experience like that, sometime in your lifetime!!) And really, it
all came down to Loraine, our hostess with the mostest: not only did she manage
all the physical aspects of our stay, she was also our ‘cruise director’ – a
one-man band when it comes down to it. What a lady – thoughtful, generous, and
a barrel of fun! Unlike any other singles conference I have ever been to, this
one was planned solely along the lines of R & R. All we were ever expected
to do was play – the entire time. It was brilliant! Haven’t had as much fun
since I was a kid!
Our
day began with a ‘full English breakfast’: broiled tomato half, baked beans,
toast, fried eggs, with bacon AND ham (sometimes sautéed mushrooms). Following
that we were hurried upstairs to begin the ‘Weymouth Olympics’ – indoors (Summer
Games) in the morning and outside (Winter Games) td midday. Divided into teams,
one member from each came up for each of the individual rounds – the goal? to complete
the task first! Games we played: 1) the
Leaning Can of Weymouth – race to see who can drink the correct amount from a
can of sparkling water/pop to cause the aluminum can to balance perfectly on
its edge, 2) Shoot through Christmas – get a Nerf projectile to hit a spot on
the wall in the middle of a wreath (this one was especially hilarious as the
mechanisms were totally unpredictable and shot all over kingdom come), 3) The
Christmas Cracker – in this game you had to get down two very dry, large
crackers (they have this variety here called cream crackers – not sure why
they’re called that ‘cause they’re not creamy or buttery in any way – very much
like a triple-thick, dense saltine) and be the first to deliver a big grin (whereas
a real Christmas cracker is a party favor that when you pull it apart it makes
a snap and has a token toy inside), 4) Santa’s baubles - sort of a bowling pin
game, 5) Catch Father Christmas (no Santa Claus here!) – a similar game where
you have to toss a ring around a stuffed Christmas toy/animal/doll lined up on
the floor, and 5) Don Donner – the idea is to put on the most pieces of
clothing and/or accessories from a pile on the floor that you can within a
designated period of time, then someone (we always chose a woman) takes them
off of you, one at a time, as the whole group counts. This is where my skills
really shone – although, I must admit, one really nimble girl outdid me in the
end! I can confidently recommend any and all of these games as topnotch holiday
entertainment – and am able to do so, speaking, as I am, from firsthand
knowledge!
After
a short break and a chance to don jackets (it was probably in the lower 50s),
we headed over to the beach for the second half of the Weymouth Olympics. Most
of these activities involved some sort of apparatus that you flung or threw or
something, involving physical prowess anyway: Rocket High Jump, Frisbee Long
Jump, Holy Frisbee Golf, etc. I must admit that I soon lost interest in this portion
of our Olympics and began to look for seashells instead. (Oh, Debbie, just like
a kid!) My attention was re-awakened as a few very brave (misguided?) souls (wet)-suited
up and took a try at doing some kayaking out on the ocean.
At
first glance the idea had sounded kind of fun, but as I soon discovered that it
involved getting your head wet, plus the water was cold and unfortunately,
choppy, it was easily apparent that today was NOT the day for me. Dave, the kayak
instructor, was taking each person out personally for a little individual
training. I was talking to my friend, Carole, one of the valiant ones, sitting ensconced
in her ‘instrument of torture’ below me at the edge of the water. She admitted
to me that, though originally she had jumped at the chance, she by now was feeling
down right petrified (she had suffered as a child with breathing difficulties
the result of asthma). No sooner had she confided these thoughts to me than the
wait was over and it was her turn to be hauled off into the ocean. You could
tell it was fairly shallow because, though they were out quite a ways, where Dave
was standing the water was just above waist deep.
I was
casually regarding this phenomenon from afar, not paying too close of attention
as I chatted with other observers, when the next thing I knew Carole was lying
sideways in the water and flailing about. Last time I’d noticed she had been
floating there peacefully, her mentor by her side– but . . . he wasn’t helping!
I couldn’t imagine why in the world she would have capsized – the waves weren’t
THAT bad! Turns out this was a planned maneuver, that in order to progress in
the art of kayaking you have to purposely tip over to make sure you know how to
free yourself from the craft in the event flipping over is not something you
chose. (You know, water safety!) Carole pulled through just fine. The
wet-suited ones played around for a while longer, but as the tide wasn’t being
very cooperative, soon returned to the beach. (I later learned an amazing
thing: after I had witnessed her safety back on land and the majority of the party
animals had returned to the comfort of the hotel, Carole went back into the
water with Dave {oh, man, all I could think of was COLD!} to take advantage of
every possible moment she had for additional instruction and practice. Wow,
what a trooper! She’s a better woman than I – her stamina is something else
again!!
Soon
after this I took myself on a very long walk down the beach. (This is one of my
favorite things to do whatever beach I’m at!) Wasn’t so great, however, because
the ‘sand’ is really small pebbles and a lot of the way, there were drifts of
this material and you couldn’t predict how your foot would land. I know this
sounds fun; however, as I continue to suffer from plantar faciitis, it,
unfortunately, wasn’t. The further I got down the coast the more I began to
worry I might miss the next event back at the hotel – soup with sliced (boo!
white again) bread and hot chocolate. (Yeah, like the kind of chocolate we have
back home, thicker than thin – like I’ve found it to be in Britain so far.)
Didn’t want to miss that!
After
refilling our tummies, our time was free for the afternoon till dinner. You
could choose a movie in the bar, cards in the lounge, visit historical sites
like the Weymouth Tower, the Jubilee Clock, and King George’s statue, or go
into town and browse. As much as I love historical stuff, I opted to walk to
town for the ever-intriguing chariTy shop bargain hunting.
When
I returned by twilight a couple hours later, I discovered that I had missed the
announcement that we were all supposed to provide something for the Secret Santa
event to occur later that evening. Carole and I went over to this little newsagent's shop on the side street
of the hotel. I hadn’t noticed it being there before, and I’d been up and down
that street a number of times! A newsagent is similar in content to a 7-11 (plus
you could definitely count on getting your newspaper there!), very common here –
every town has one – or several, depending on its size. We found a couple pretty
wonderfully random items – and we didn’t even have to resort to candy, as the
men who directed us there had suggested! (We felt generous and got some extras,
knowing that no doubt someone else had not gotten the word, just as we hadn’t
in the beginning.) Then it was time to hurry and get dressed for Christmas, our
theme for the evening. (‘Look Festive’ our agenda read, in regards to dinner
and the dance!)
The dining room (restaurant) was merrily
presented. Besides the wall and centerpieces, there were crackers (the party
favor kind this time) at all of the tables, enough for everyone, also those
little confetti poppers. It was a lovely meal, and, as I
mentioned, there were generous portions and the delicious food was nicely
arranged. Following the meal we retired once again to the ‘bar area’ for a live-entertainment
Christmas-themed dance. This night I did dance with a very quiet, studious
(forgive me to add, geeky) man by the name of Adrian, from the northeastern
side of the country in Suffolk {where England makes a major bump!}, a place
called Lowestoft, (wow – he came a long ways!) who also proved to be a good dancer.
(I had been told by Carole that he knew how to dance, and so I asked him if he’d
consider giving me a chance for a little whirl. He didn’t seem to mind at all!)
We danced some waltzes and foxtrot and jazz (kind of like jitterbug, but,
unfortunately, he didn’t know that one) and then I excused myself (I didn’t
want to hog all the fun from the other ladies!) to go into the lounge for a
little card playing. (You may recall I had missed out on that the night before when
I went off to bed early and I was determined to get in another of my favorite
pastimes!)
Soon we played the Secret Santa game by someone ad libbing a story,
inserting the words ‘left’ and ‘right’ strategically into the dialogue so that
you pass it this way and then that – the idea being that if you had your eye on
a certain shaped package, you saw it taunting you as it goes back and forth before you. You’ve
done it, right?! (Earlier in the day I discovered the special features of the
Gideon Bible and had asked Loraine if she had an extra I could have. Imagine my
surprise when my Secret Santa gift turned out to be just that! Oh, that,
Loraine – she was SO good to me!)
It was a really, really fun evening – with lots of variety and a variety
of friends. Oh, man, I was having the time of my life with those silly,
wacky singles (there were about 30-35 of us from all around the country – of
course, more local than not). It was so refreshing to be in a group of adults
where you could just let it all hang out – and not be afraid that someone was
laughing behind your back. It was marvelous, crazy fun – I laughed a lot and I NEVER want
to stop laughing! Sank into bed contentedly with visions of Christmas wafting in
and out through my dreams.
Photos_
1- the
Richmoor Hotel - that's us on the first floor (don't forget there's a ground floor as well), middle window
2- veranda to the stars
3- our
safe harbor
4-
anticipatory kayakers - that's my friend, go-getter Carole, the one with the lighter hair
5- after
the fact – and still smiling (that's Norm, ALWAYS making us laugh -maybe you could tell!)
6- can’t
have beaches without dogs (most every one of these belonged to a different
person, and as soon as one doggie spied a friend, he had to take off from his
owner to say hello)
7- two on
a leash (one carrying his good-sized doggie toy)
8- beach
sentinels (passed these guys on my walk,
asked them, ‘what dya see?!’ thinking they’d tell me they were scrutinizing the two large ocean liners I could barely see way
out on the horizon; their garrulous answer: grebe)
9- three
course meal (here roast turkey with three kinds of potatoes - as if one were not enough!
10- a real
Christmas cracker
11- see, I wasn’t kidding when I said it was a
ParTey – and a royal one at that!
12- even was able to round up the staff (that’s Mikey,
illegal from Poland, awesome - I heard this phrase on the BBC: Poland is hemorrhaging, referring to how many of its citizens are seeking employment elsewhere outside the country): I made friends at every echelon - everyone treated me
like I was queen for a day, indulging my every whim!
