The Nottinghamshire Philatelic Society Dinners at The Rancliffe Arms, Bunny; (2016-2019).

THE SOCIETY DINNER, 6th April 2016
The 102nd Year Society dinner was the first of four to be held at The Rancliffe Arms in Bunny.

(All photos: Bryan Button)
The Poem, composed by  George Kirkham:
The Rancliffe Arms
Doth have its charms
A genial host
And a resident ghost.
Did you say ghost?
Yes you heard
I'll have him by his beard
And remove his flipping head
Just a mo- he's already flaming dead
With his head tucked underneath his arm.
Thats all right then- he can do no harm.
The menu was studied for cakes and goodies
It reminded me of punters at the bookies.
We made our choice of mains and starters
(Hope you don't mean gas or waters.)
Swivel-hipped waiters balancing plates
Putting them on tables for us and our mates
Then along came pud, sweet or seconds
All good stuff that calories beckons.
After that we were full, stuffed and replete.
After a while we staggered to our feet.
Now let's all say ‘thanks to Bryan and Minou'
For a really good, smashing ‘bit of a do'
Let’s all go home, quietly, softly and full of good cheer.
All being well we will meet up next year.

(From the Spring 2016 Newsletter).

THE SOCIETY DINNER, 5th April 2017

The 103rd Year Society dinner was also held at The Rancliffe Arms in Bunny. It was attended by 24 members and guests. Our poet laureate, George Kirkham, was present and recited another specially composed poem:

The time has come, it's now after 7.30
Any later, and members get shirty.
'The Rancliffe Arms' is again our venue
For members, friends and relations to renew
Their common affliction for bits of sticky paper
To plant on pages ( the maker)
Then gather round and go 'oo' and 'RR'
At some bloke's collection of South Zanzibar.
Some folks I know take their collections to heart
Me ? I just like to play my very small part.
I am reminded I am a philatelic Philistine
Everyone's collection is better than mine;
Still I enjoy the Society's social side,
I'm standing up here and won't try to hide.
I now feel emotional, full and moved
As tonight's events have gone and proved
So "thank you, Ossie, for tonight's event,
Everything just right, it came and went",
As we are now replete it becomes clear,
We are launched on our way to another philatelic year.

(From the Spring 2017 Newsletter).

THE SOCIETY DINNER, 18th April 2018

The 104th Year Society dinner was again held at The Rancliffe Arms in Bunny. It was attended by 23 members and guests.
Photographs taken by Maria Hall at the Dinner.

Our poet laureate, George Kirkham, was present and recited yet another specially composed poem:

The Society's bun fight
Was on a Wednesday night
The Rancliffe Arms, our destination.e
We'd been there before
So we knew the score
And Rancliffe's grand reputation.
We were shown to our room
And we all sat 'doon'
Full of anticipation.
We greeted each other
Whether sister or brother
Or even by marital relation.
Our plates piled high
With spuds, gravy and pie
And to heck with indigestion.
Those who felt good
Went for some pud
And scoffed with great expedition,
Feeling full and replete
We got to our feet
And gave the organisers an ovation.
On going home by car
We thought 'this isn't far'
It was nearer than our expectation.
If the bosses are up to the task
We would humbly ask
For at least a suitable repetition.

(From the Spring 2018 Newsletter).

THE SOCIETY DINNER, 3rd April 2019

The 105th Year Society dinner was again held at The Rancliffe Arms in Bunny. It was attended by 18 members and guests.
Our poet laureate, George Kirkham, was present and promised that we would eventually get yet another specially composed poem:
He delivered the poem for all to read at the AGM on 26th April and has kindly consented to allow this publication.

We were shown to our table by a smiling host.
I think I have already mentioned the ghost;
I imagine he must be a genial feller,
Spending time in the beer cellar.
At least he should; but he's lost his head.
Its not where it ought to be, its under his arm instead.
He can pour in the booze but it comes out of his throat,
His poor old body gets nothing or nowt.
Let's leave him under the floor,
Not to be mentioned, not never, no more.

By the way,
Let me say:
"Anyone mentioning the 'B' word,
Be sure our wrath, he will have incurred";
He'll be flung out the door,
As he hits the floor,
To bounce back twice and roll in the mud.
That'll teach him, or at least it should.

Back to our dinner, tables and chairs,
Behind us are all our worries and cares.
As usual, the venue proved a winner,
We sat there stuffed, mute and full of dinner.
We all had a good and satisfying feast.
I want nothing to eat till Tuesday at least.
I would like to thank Brian, Sandra and David
For organising our bun-fight. Twelve months pass rapid.
Please let us raise our glasses, beakers and cup
And give silent thanks, we are still here to sup.
Next year the organisers can sit back and relax,
No need for 'Rennies' or 'Ex-Lax'.

Thanks to you all for putting up with this ramble,
As you rush out of the door in an undignified scramble.

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