A great week of dancing to 3D (The Three Dimensional Dewhurst Family band) and caller Ivan Aitken, interspersed with walks in the Quantocks in fine summer sunshine. The Manor’s lawns were frequented by ardent croquet and petanque fans and there was also a Sunday Cream Tea Dance (the latter organised by the Manor and advertised with a bill board on the main road/lane junction) which attracted a few intrepid tourists from as far afield as New Zealand!. I thought the tourists coped with the dancing and the grass underfoot very well and it was disappointing to suddenly realise that some had fled, after all the ‘excellent’ tuition from the Guildford folk and friends!| 1 | In the foothills of the Quantocks, ‘neath the shadow of its hills, Lurking there at Halsway Manor Lies the mother of all ills. |
2 | Breakfast soothes our night starvation, But, it brings our foremost dread Standing sentinel, at its station For to devour our daily bread. |
| 3 | Slices of all shapes and sizes Are into the furnace fed, Nothing can withstand the fury Of this ghastly un-living dead. |
4 | But for all its sparks and smoking It worries us both day and night it's more to us a cause for joking Because the bread still comes out white. |
| 5 | Turn the wick up, thump the back No good, this time it’s cinder black We've put it in, from left and right And still it’s vanished clean out of sight. |
6 | This great steel box of glowing light Consumes whole loaves of brown and white Leaves a queue of frustrated folk Watching bread go up in smoke. |
| 7 | But, have no fear, help is at hand A search all up and down the lands Revealed the remedy, we've all sought A nice coal fire and a . . . . . . . THREE PRONGED FORK!! | ||