It seems an age ago now – the last weekend in October, Halloween in the air, and a mixed bunch of Showcase types packing into various cars to head off for the annual weekend of fun, frolics and a small sweet sherry or two. The last few years we’ve headed North – Stonehaven, Pitlochry, Kenmore and Perth, so this year it was time another direction was the poor unsuspecting town. Peter’s footballing days with Gala Fairydean provided the inspiration – let’s hit Gala!

The first thing everyone seemed to note on arrival was the fact that the hotel seemed perfectly equipped to deal with us. At first glance little more than a pub with some bedrooms on top, further examination revealed three bars to choose from! Let’s set the scene:

Conservatory Bar: stuck in an eighties time-warp, a surprisingly chilly and atmosphereless selection of formica-topped tables and chrome furniture.

Lounge Bar: large, comfy, typical country hotel lounge bar. Fills up on Saturday lunchtimes with a clientele of old ladies taking a break from their shopping for scampi or steak pie.

Public Bar: dartboard, linoleum, three drunk old men. And one of them was behind the bar.

So on Friday night we all went for a pub crawl. Except some of us never left the hotel....

We started out in the Conservatory, which is where we were fed – Kirsty and Peter had negotiated us a great rate on good value bar suppers, which were soon disposed of. A few pints later, let’s all head through to the lounge bar, for more pints and convivial company. Then the itchy feet set in, and some headed off to the bright lights of Gala, whereas a lot of us decided to brave the Public Bar. This didn’t seem like a great move at first, until we discovered exactly how accommodating the barman was willing to be – first of all with choice of music on the sound system, and secondly with the concept of closing time. First of all on went the "Kings and Queens of Cool" CD – all Dean Martin, Andy Williams and Shirley Bassey which was duly sung along with. Then AJ produced a CD to strike terror into us... a recording of last year’s show! If you weren’t there, think about this carefully. Did we a) pop on a couple of highlights, b) leave it on as background music and chat, or c) relive the entire show, sing along at the top of our lungs, perform dance routines and clap our way through "Hey Jude"? Is that your final answer? I can tell you that if you’d answered c), you’d have been correct! At this point a special mention has to go to the honorary Andrews Sister, Brian. Joan and Zoe had to toot-toot-salute their way through Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy, but there was no Marjorie – so Brian obliged, and what a star! I’m not sure the moustache would have gone with the skirt – but I bet he would have suited on of those little hats!

By this time those that had ventured off to check out the rest of Gala returned, muttering complaints about pubs closing at 11. This was definitely not going to be a problem in the hotel bar, as the night wore on into the wee small hours and we eventually staggered towards our beds.

Saturday mornings of Showcase weekends always follow certain patterns, as people cope with them in different ways. There’s the "playing football" approach favoured by some of our healthy young lads (and Malcolm), there’s the "staying in bed and doing what comes naturally" approach favoured by AJ and Lee, there’s the "I’ll get up for breakfast but I’m going straight back to bed again" approach favoured by Kate, there’s the "ooh aren’t there some lovely little gift shops and now let’s go to a tearoom" approach favoured by the girlies (including Crofton and Brian). Personally, I usually opt for the tagging along with shopping girlies, protesting that the pubs open at 11am, and suddenly needing to find a toilet as the previous evening’s over-indulgences make their presence felt. Too much information, I know, but anyone who remembers Perth will know what I am talking about!

Back at the hotel, and four teams formed up, got into cars and headed off on the car treasure hunt. One of the hazards of the treasure hunt is the inevitable time-lapse between setting the clues, and the treasure hunt actually happening. Last year, Perthshire decided that the tourist season finished between the two dates, changing several clues. This year it was the weather that did us no favours. The week before, Zoe and myself spent a fun packed afternoon driving around the Galashiels countryside in crisp, dry, sunny Autumn weather. In those conditions, wandering around Earlston, traipsing around a graveyard, and tramping through the woods to Wallace’s statue seemed like a great idea. Come the day of the actual treasure hunt, and the weather had other ideas – it was persisting it down. Which was fine for Zoe and myself with the joy of pubs in Gala and shopping for prizes, but there were some rather bedraggled and muddy participants that returned to the hotel! The winning team was Kate, Joan, Crofton & Brian -–unsurprisingly, as they seemed to be the only ones that actually want to set it next year.

The Saturday evening was to have a somewhat different look to previous years – instead of a fancy dress party in a function room in the hotel, we were booked into a nightclub in Gala. It started out promisingly enough – welcome glass of bubbly in a separate upstairs room, and cheap doubles were going down very well. But then it got busier, and busier, and we were really starting to see a slice of Gala nightlife up close. There were the dodgy slappers in frankly unwise dresses, and blokes that looked like they were not going to be happy unless the evening ended in a fight or a shag (or preferably both). The phrase "it’s just not my scene, man" sprang effortlessly to mind, and I began to realise rapidly I had to get out of there before I got my lights punched out for gawping. I can’t help it if I felt like I was filming a Channel 4 documentary! So at about half past midnight, a tactical retreat back to the hotel was carried out. We got settled into the public bar again, and gradually more and more Showcase types drifted back from the night club, the singing was in full flow, and it was the by far the wrong side of 3am.