Christmas in January

Well, as is often the case, I realised I’d never written up our fantastic Christmas party – you might spot a certain pattern emerging of blog posts written long after the event.

As is often the case, December well and truly ran away with us all and in the run up to the festive period we decided it would be easier to organise our Christmas party in January rather than try to navigate congested social calenders. We organised a murder mystery with fantastic food and wonderful company! I hope you enjoy the retelling…

T’was the night before 18 Jan and all through Whaley Hall,

Some people were stirring – they were planning a ball.

The stockings were hung near the chimney with care,

In hopes that the Guild members soon would be there.

The invitations were sent, and the characters chosen,

In hopes that the guests would not turn up frozen!

And Kate in her costume and Martyn in his hat,

Had just settled themselves for a long winter’s chat.

When out on the drive there arose such a clatter,

Joy had arrived straight from knit and natter.

Away from the car, Helen flew like a flash,

Braving High Peak weather and sporting a ‘tash.

The moon on the glint of the now empty dam,

Gave a reassuring nod, things were going to plan.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,

But all of our guests and some small cans of beer.

With wonderful smells, good food and gravy,

Here were our hosts, Fathers David and Jamie.

More rapid than eagles the courses they came,

And they served us, and chatted, and called us by name.

Now Kate! Now Martyn! Now Joy and Gemma!

On Helen! On Caroline! On Jo and Marella!

To the top of the table and play all our parts,

Now who is the murderer that has broken our hearts?

As dry facts that before the wild intellects fly,

When they meet with an obstacle count as a lie,

So up to the table, the courses they tried

With a pack full of clues trying to work out who lied.

And then in a twinkling we heard on the roof,

The drip drip drip of some solid proof.

As I drew in my head and was turning around,

Accusations were suddenly thrown with a bound;

There were lots of theories but little proof,

The accused were all tarnished without much reproof.

A bundle of liars were on the attack

And it looked like the accusers were on the right track.

Her eyes how they twinkled! Her dimples, how merry!

Her cheeks were like roses, her lips were like cherry!

Her sweet little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

But her alibi was as white as the snow.

He held the stump of a pipe tight in his teeth,

And the smoke it had encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a kind face and a little round belly

that shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly.

He was generous and rich – a fair bit of bling;

And I laughed when I saw him, and asked for a ring;

His stock portfolio and a fine business head,

Soon gave me distress when I heard he was dead.

The killer spoke not a word, but went straight to his work;

And crossing the street, he pulled a noose with a jerk,

And laying a finger aside of his nose,

He pulled on the rope and up the body rose.

The guests all sprang to the sound of the scream,

And away it all flew like a lingering dream.

But I heard him exclaim, ere they drove out of sight,

“Not a detective among ‘em but what a good night!”

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