Like black backed gulls (or maybe herring gulls, ask Paul), 56 people descended on the food. The buffet was excellent, and if we had wanted more salad (Scottish hotels I have found are generally salad free areas, at least to those of us from the soft South) we should, says Neil, have jolly well asked.There was more than enough, with a few prawns still kicking around after the Quiz.
The Royal did us proud though with smoked salmon, prawns and various quiches, cold meats, ham, etc plus as many sausage rolls as you could eat. Things went on until near midnight, as the staff looked nervously at the debris (most of whom had departed home) that needed to be cleared for breakfast next morning.
The Quiz was a laugh, with eight teams of around seven members: Lochsiders & Co (Rona); Boat McBoatFace (Paul); Up a Creek (Topher); I am Adrian and I love the Biosphere [sic] (Sue); The In Crowd (Adrian);We Haf Bols (Donald); Sinking Ship (Jonathan) and the curiously named Triangular Folds Team (Robert)** at least that's what it sounded like. How sweet, thought the commodore. A team named after napkin arrangement.
After 30 or so questions the tie at 16 1/2 points came down to a close finish between the winning In Crowd, Boaty, Triangular Folds and Up a Creek, with the £100 prize going to a charity that supports children with a rare condition. The questions ranged from the obvious (how many portholes in the club house) to the frankly ridiculous (what's the current compass variation and how deep is it on a line from the Point to Alnaharrie, as if any self respecting WAFI would know, or even care).
With 35 or so of the above, and 21 OAFIs (The Honorable Donald's brilliant acronym for Oar Assisted Flipping Idiots), turnout far exceeded expectations. Missed from the occasion were half of the Osbornes, who elected to go hurtling down alpine slopes and sip gluhwein rather than mix with the rank and file, but Mairi, Siobhan, Bob, Alison and Jessie kept the Osborne end up.
And next year, if we repeat the Rollick, THERE WILL BE PUDDINGS!
** Turns out it was Niagara Falls not Triangular Folds (a symptom of the commodore going deaf).