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Well
everyone, I will share with you a funny happening whilst I was away on
holiday. I was recently in
Scarborough
,
Yorkshire
here in
England
, for the purpose of competing in
the British Chess Championships. Alongside the grandmasters, international
masters and other very notables, there were others like me who have been
notable at some time in the past (I'm a former ladies champ) and just
plain chess enthusiasts. I played in one of the non-championship events.
Scarborough
is a seaside town with all the
usual attractions for holiday-makers, with everything from donkey rides on
the sands for the children to cliff walks and views. Talking of which, one
day I was in a dilemma faced with the descent of said cliffs. It happened
to me as it does to many, that back in my hotel I needed to go and 'powder
my nose'. My room on this occasion was not en-suite, so I went outside to
the appropriate little room. I had my keys in my hand with which to get
back into my bedroom, or so I thought.
To my horror, I discovered that the keys in my hand were not those of my
hotel room but my home keys. I had locked myself out of my room! So, I
went downstairs to ring for assistance. Alas the hotel proprietors and
everybody else were out. It was getting near the time for me to trek to
the Spa Complex at the base of those cliffs, for my next chess game. I
rang and rang the bell and rang the phone from a guests call box; nothing!
There I was in my normal clothes, thankfully, but no handbag with all the
bits and pieces one carries around and which I would need (money, comb,
pen, lipstick, roll-up umbrella, sunglasses etc) but I was wearing ~ wait
for it ~ my bedroom slippers.
After waiting awhile in the lounge for return of the hotelier, to no
avail, I decided that 'the play must go on'. So, I had to go to the
tournament just as I was, no cardigan for if it turned chilly, no money
for a cup of tea during the up to four hours of intensive mental work on a
hot day, and I'd have to borrow a pen with which we have to record our
chess moves on score sheets. But ah, the cliffs. The only way down to the
tournament hall was via those cliffs, either using the cliff lift at 70
pence a go ~ but then I didn't have any money on me, did I ~ or down the
masses and masses of winding, steep steps in my slippers!
I must say the views were superb and so was the exercise in those fairly
sturdy slippers which, fortunately, did not slip. That old song comes to
mind, 'She'll be coming down the mountain when she comes ... She'll be
wearing silk pyjamas, wearing silk pyjamas, wearing silk pyjamas when she
comes.'
Have
a good laugh everyone at poor old Auntie Gillian with the wrong keys
locked out of her room and with no one to help her.
Chess result? My best game of the tournament, for I beat the man who won
it last year. He was graded well above me. The slippers had won the day!!
Gillian
Moore
11
August 2004 |