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British Broadcasting Corporation Home. Post : Beach. Emboldened by the rare sunshine, my mind turned to the beach - and Simon's nifty new intro. If you're puzzled by "The Beach" Othertimes it is the home for a real party, with constant gossip, leg-pulling, rumour, innuendo, chit-chat and weirdness. If this were a forum and it sort of is because we post responses to each other, not just to Eddie, hence our term for ourselves 'Froggers', a combination of forum and blogger then the beach would be the off-topic area.
It's a tropical location, no matter the time of year it's always warm and pleasant there. Sunrises and sunsets are spectacular, the evenings balmy. It has a of different locations; the Nick Clarke waterfront bar; the smokers corner; Fido's Run for the dog-walkers; the Naughty Step and many others. How do you find your way around? There is no direct answer to the question. The beach is a moveable feast, literally. It will be renewed by our Lord and master Mr.
Edward de Mair each Monday morning. This is because we have found in the past that when the of posts exceeds about the entire thing becomes unwieldy and unstable. A case of the beach turning to quicksand. There is a herd of camels who Saint Simons Island party sluts for large bbc s the sands, which froggers are very fond of. There are sun-loungers, so you can take it easy and catch some rays.
Quite often the late-night attendees will have a barbie. It's a fun place, with only one real rule; Be nice to each other; we are ALL chums here. The real debate happens on the other thre. The beach is a place for banter, whimsy, relaxation and friendship, where jarring comments are not particularly welcome. There are certain very mild protocols, which you tend to pick up as you go along. So slip your shoes off, feel the sand between your toes, relax and enjoy yourself. Eddie; Thanks for using the updated version. I felt that the one was meant to have been a work in progress, never the finished article.
So I thought I'd find a modified form of words that would better explain the Beach for the benefit of newcomers. Today I am singing not for my supper but for my afternoon tea! A social do for my friend's local support group for sufferers of M. Yes I can both say and spell the full thing but who wants to read that! We are singing as the Jam Tarts, for the first time in full tarty dress. Short skirts, fishnets and tarty little tops. In my case, topped off with a feather boa.
Si - yet another string to your bow when the photography goes quiet? You, like many others on the Frog, not only express yourself so well in the written word, but also have so much to share. Thank you. I'm spreading my towel on this comfy looking rock over here, but I've left the makings for Kir Royale over on the Nick Clarke Bar - there should be enough for all who drop in over the next couple of hours.
For those who've already adopted this week's Beach, here is Bill n Ben's scurrilous description of the first frog tryst In years I have been helping with the PA for the afternoon and evening gigs, but there was only one rig this year ably run by my two colleagues. So there I am in the garden of the Bricklayers Arms, chilled to the bone and trying to warm myself up with Liffey, anybody in there right mind would have chosen coffee but not me. Suddenly there was silence, no music, no bird song; you could hear the dogs yelping as they ran from the scene.
It was overcast but you noticed the darkness increase as this huge shadow advanced towards me. The ground shook, I had to grab my pint to stop it falling from the table. And then the sound. The vision. There she was, a Six foot Six Goth, built like an Amazon. Dressed from head to foot in black, every square centimetre of flesh that I could see was either covered in tattoos or body piercings.
We watched a few dances and then decided to adjourn to the bar.
It was like a seen from a bowling alley, Morris and Molly Dancers were being thrown every where as this Chieftain Tank of a woman headed towards the pub. Why bother opening a door, if you can smash it off its hinges as you crash through. On our next visit, we will discover just what guitarists do to warm their hands up. Ah, fifi, the truth is out.
Though I kike the Jam Tarts outfit, and the feather boa as long as it's not constricting. BnB, I've got a shovelful of correct apostrophes I picked up from where they'd been discarded by their careless owners. We could play Hunt the Apostrophe, if you like?
A splendid new beach - thank you, Eddie. The sun's shining over in January, but much too cold to strip off and laze around as we are all doing here. Things are not good in January - too much to do: parish magazine to edit why do people always submit stuff so late and ask so nicely if I could please please possibly squeeze it in?! It's no good, Brian Bill'nBen - I just can't believe that our lovely sweet friendly Fifi is as terrifying as you say. Drop the apostrophes, gather up your courage and be bolder next time. She won't bite you! Talking of trysts, FFred is being very quiet just now.
Have you had one or even both of your dates yet, FFred? Tell all, please A sense of normality eventually returned to the bar. The rest of the clientele seemed to be giving us a WIDE berth. As the dust began to settle, a figure came into view. Like a vision from the Domeqc port adverts, dressed in a full length black cape, stood Placido Domingo. He quickly went to see our lady, dropped to one knee and carefully took her hand in his. He gently kissed it and caressed it, and as the Orchestra of La Scala, Milan now how did they get here played, he gently sang the aria, Che Gelida Manina from La Boheme.
What a magical moment, obviously not for Fifi. Luckily the back door had already been ripped off of its hinges, as appearing from the gloom came, Luciano Pavarotti. He quickly approached, knelt humbly and as he took her hand, history was made as the two Maestros once again sang the aria as a duet. Her first song was amazing.
Her introduction to the next song was novel, to say the least. Who were we but her humble servants, we did as instructed.
Just back from my Jam Tarts gig. Thankfully the press photographer turned up long before Jan and I had wriggled and shovelled ourselves into our skimpies! I won a fondue set in the raffle. Anyone got some alternative recipes for using it? I don't have a sweet enough tooth for chocolate and SO can't have too much cheese without getting heartburn. Please be aware, Bill n Ben has used his artistic licence to the limit in his description.
He got the bit right about me being female I can't wait to find out what happened once we got to the bar, and I invented Fifi's Patent Hands-Warmer! There is a photo of the hand-warming. I'll send it round tomorrow to anyone silly enough to request it via or the website. Shame on you! What do you mean, it did happen, just as I reported it. On your own admission you have photographic proof.
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