Having included it in the list of challenges, I belatedly realised that many of the halls have closed in recent years. The nearest one is in Tooting and when I googled it, I was delighted to find that the hall there is a striking building, both inside and out. It originally opened in 1931 as a great, luxurious art deco cinema. As well as showing films, it was used as a venue for variety shows and in the 1960s it used to attract major talent including Jerry Lee Lewis, Frank Sinatra, the Rolling Stones, the Beatles (twice, to sell-out audiences) and the Bee Gees. In 2000 it was awarded Grade 1 listed status and it remains the only Grade 1 cinema of its style.
Would any of my friends feel like joining in this task? I mentioned it to Vivien, who inspired me to do the 60 challenges in the first place, and she obligingly jumped at the idea. (Please do look at her blog of her own challenges, which she started in 2015 - http://sixtyat60challenge.blogspot.co.uk/.) Chips were mentioned as an inducement....
Neither of our husbands fancied taking part but Peter did come along to have a look round the hall, as he likes art deco, and to take some photos before heading home for lunch and a peaceful afternoon. The foyer and fruit machine room were certainly worth recording:
The pink inflatable flamingos seemed to be a theme of the venue. One of the staff members had wholeheartedly adopted it, including wearing lacy pink pants over his trousers, along with a rather fetching wig:
While Peter was doing his David Bailey stuff, Vivien and I were explaining to the very pleasant woman on the front desk that we'd never played bingo before and hadn't a clue what to do. When she referred to lines, tickets and full houses, it didn't mean much to us. We did grasp that to be allowed to play, we had to become members of Gala Bingo. Membership is free and is presumably a requirement of the gambling regulations.
That done, we moved into the entrance hall and the tender mercies of the man with the wig. He was charming and did his best to enlighten us as to the options available. Essentially there appeared to be three: the traditional paper and pen method or the use of a digital tablet, with or without autoplay. The full session didn't start until 1pm, but for only £1 we could take part in a half-hour game using paper and pen. If we enjoyed it, we could return to him and pay for the full session, using whichever option we wanted.
That sounded a good plan, so we handed over our £1 each and went through to the main hall - which was even more striking, with a mixture of Gothic and art deco:
There was another flock of inflatable flamingos taking centre stage in front of the callers, contrasting strangely with the grandeur of the walls and ceiling:
It all seemed slightly surreal, as Vivien and I made our way to one of the tables and settled down to read the instructions we'd been given in a booklet that also contained various vouchers - including one for a small bottle of wine, which at this rate was soon going to be cashed in. We couldn't help noticing that the customers portrayed in the booklet bore no relation to reality. They were universally young, full of vitality and with gleaming white teeth:
The only point they had in common was that they were virtually all female. As we gazed around, we saw that apart from 3 women in their 20s, all the rest were well past retirement age, not exactly bouncy and missing more than a few teeth. Interestingly all the callers and staff in the hall were male. Were they expecting trouble later on? There was a wide range of ethnicities, which was reflected in the staff too, and - contrary to some of the reviews on the internet - all the staff were very friendly and helpful.
We fished out our biros and sat poised over our tickets, ready to cross off numbers as they were called:
By separating my two pages, on the (mistaken) assumption that I should scan them both at the same time, I was advised by one of the staff who wandered over that I had invalidated both of them. Seeing my crestfallen look - and no doubt realising I was so clueless I hadn't a chance of winning anyway - he kindly said it didn't matter and I could carry on.
Vivien and I both found it quite a challenge trying not only to keep tabs on all our numbers and locate and cross them off as they came up, but to spot which lines were nearing completion - and thus the chance of a small cash prize, if we could complete the line and yell out quickly enough to stop the game. As you can see from the photo above, each page has six blocks of numbers, each with 3 rows. There are prizes - typically £10-£25 - for whoever is first to get all the numbers in any single line, or any pair of lines, or all 3 (a full house). Neither of us got anywhere close. One of the staff came across to us after the game was over and advised that if we wanted to have a fighting chance, we needed to use either a thick felt-tipped pen or a "dabber" - a sort of green marker pen with a very large flat round "nib" which would completely cover the number we were trying to cross out. That way, we'd be able to see at a glance which of our numbers hadn't yet been called.
It all passed in rather a blur and we had to decide what to do next. Both of us felt that even if we bought dabbers, we would be so much slower than the regulars that it wouldn't make much difference. Also we fancied trying a different approach and having a go with the electronic version. We each plumped for the £10 package, which would cover the main game for the afternoon - and would give us the chance of winning not only a larger cash prize but even a car, if the number marked with a gold star on our screen came up. (We briefly debated buying one package between us but how would we then share the car?)
The next decision was whether to set the digital tablet to autoplay or not. If we did, it would automatically mark off the called numbers for us and alert us if we got to the point of needing only one more number to win. We could therefore more or less sit back and let it do the work for us. Whatever we decided, we could always change our minds at any stage and simply click it on or off. Initially Vivien took the view that we should leave autoplay off and stretch our mental reflexes, whereas I felt I'd already done that and was ready for the more slothful approach. Her higher moral ground soon crumbled, so autoplay it was.
We had a few minutes before the main game started at 1pm, which was just enough time to cash in our wine vouchers and order some food. The wine was surprisingly good - chilled pinot grigio or soft fruity merlot - and we each ordered chips with tomato ketchup. There was a full and reasonably priced menu, including an offer of any 2 main courses for only £10 the pair, with items such as chicken kiev as well as the inevitable burgers. The afternoon was shaping up nicely!
Once the game was underway, this was what the computer screen looked like:
The numbers with black triangles are those which have been called. At the bottom of the worm-like space on the right, above the Claim button, you can see it says that I am only 2 numbers away from completing a single line (the top line of the first block on the top left). I was therefore gazing at the screen and listening to the caller, willing him to call out one of my required numbers:
When that happened - as it did for both of us, several times - the single last number needed would appear at the top of the worm, flashing. Meanwhile there was still the possibility of winning that car. I couldn't quite believe it later on when my screen showed a number with a gold star on it, and it was called. Surely I couldn't have won a set of wheels? I tentatively squeaked "Yes" and half raised my hand. The game carried on, as I hadn't been heard. One of the staff had spotted me, however, and came over to see what had happened. I explained and it turned out is was just as well my squeak had been inaudible, as the gold star only applies when you also have a full house - ie virtually never. Feeling a chump, I settled down and carried on staring at my worm.
We were surprised that from time to time, it was announced that the winner of a cash prize was from Ipswich or South Shields or Liverpool. Eventually we realised that some of the games were being played nationally, with people taking part either on-line or via links with other Gala Clubs across the country. The cash prizes then were bigger but our chances of winning were greatly reduced. Or were they? I tried to remember the rules of randomness but couldn't, and decided to believe that my chances were the same no matter how many other people were taking part - unless, as was likely, they were much quicker to react in shouting out and/or pressing the Claim button if their numbers came up.
Each time it got to the point where I needed only one more number, my heart would start pounding as I stared at the flashing number in the worm, willing the caller to announce it. I'd almost given up when suddenly it happened! I hit the Claim button, squeaked "Yes!" and waved my hand, determined this time to be noticed. Amazingly I'd won one of the two highest prizes for a non-national game that afternoon - £100. Far from resenting a beginner's luck, most of the other women smiled approvingly. As I almost never win anything, I was bowled over and so excited.
Once the game ended, Vivien and I went out to the entrance hall to return our screens and for me to collect my winnings. I'd laughingly said that I'd probably find the prize was simply credited to my membership card. As the staff member went to put my screen away, I pointed out that it was showing a balance of £100 - and she said it would be put on my card. No, no. Fortunately a woman in the queue behind me, who was clearly a regular, told me I should ask for the cash and it was duly handed over. Feeling in need of a stiff cup of coffee, we went to the nearby Caffe Nero and indulged.
It had been a very special day, sharing one of my 60 challenges with Vivien, who had had such a huge influence on my past year. If we hadn't met by chance at a mutual friend's lunch party last summer, and started chatting about what she'd been up to recently, I would never have thought of doing the challenges and would have missed out on so many different experiences this year. Thanks to her, my life has been greatly enriched and, with the generous support of friends who've made donations to one or both charities, other lives will have been helped too. We're hoping that someone else will pick up and take over when my year ends in early December - so if you're coming up to 60....
The pink inflatable flamingos seemed to be a theme of the venue. One of the staff members had wholeheartedly adopted it, including wearing lacy pink pants over his trousers, along with a rather fetching wig:
While Peter was doing his David Bailey stuff, Vivien and I were explaining to the very pleasant woman on the front desk that we'd never played bingo before and hadn't a clue what to do. When she referred to lines, tickets and full houses, it didn't mean much to us. We did grasp that to be allowed to play, we had to become members of Gala Bingo. Membership is free and is presumably a requirement of the gambling regulations.
That done, we moved into the entrance hall and the tender mercies of the man with the wig. He was charming and did his best to enlighten us as to the options available. Essentially there appeared to be three: the traditional paper and pen method or the use of a digital tablet, with or without autoplay. The full session didn't start until 1pm, but for only £1 we could take part in a half-hour game using paper and pen. If we enjoyed it, we could return to him and pay for the full session, using whichever option we wanted.
That sounded a good plan, so we handed over our £1 each and went through to the main hall - which was even more striking, with a mixture of Gothic and art deco:
There was another flock of inflatable flamingos taking centre stage in front of the callers, contrasting strangely with the grandeur of the walls and ceiling:
The only point they had in common was that they were virtually all female. As we gazed around, we saw that apart from 3 women in their 20s, all the rest were well past retirement age, not exactly bouncy and missing more than a few teeth. Interestingly all the callers and staff in the hall were male. Were they expecting trouble later on? There was a wide range of ethnicities, which was reflected in the staff too, and - contrary to some of the reviews on the internet - all the staff were very friendly and helpful.
We fished out our biros and sat poised over our tickets, ready to cross off numbers as they were called:
By separating my two pages, on the (mistaken) assumption that I should scan them both at the same time, I was advised by one of the staff who wandered over that I had invalidated both of them. Seeing my crestfallen look - and no doubt realising I was so clueless I hadn't a chance of winning anyway - he kindly said it didn't matter and I could carry on.
Vivien and I both found it quite a challenge trying not only to keep tabs on all our numbers and locate and cross them off as they came up, but to spot which lines were nearing completion - and thus the chance of a small cash prize, if we could complete the line and yell out quickly enough to stop the game. As you can see from the photo above, each page has six blocks of numbers, each with 3 rows. There are prizes - typically £10-£25 - for whoever is first to get all the numbers in any single line, or any pair of lines, or all 3 (a full house). Neither of us got anywhere close. One of the staff came across to us after the game was over and advised that if we wanted to have a fighting chance, we needed to use either a thick felt-tipped pen or a "dabber" - a sort of green marker pen with a very large flat round "nib" which would completely cover the number we were trying to cross out. That way, we'd be able to see at a glance which of our numbers hadn't yet been called.
It all passed in rather a blur and we had to decide what to do next. Both of us felt that even if we bought dabbers, we would be so much slower than the regulars that it wouldn't make much difference. Also we fancied trying a different approach and having a go with the electronic version. We each plumped for the £10 package, which would cover the main game for the afternoon - and would give us the chance of winning not only a larger cash prize but even a car, if the number marked with a gold star on our screen came up. (We briefly debated buying one package between us but how would we then share the car?)
The next decision was whether to set the digital tablet to autoplay or not. If we did, it would automatically mark off the called numbers for us and alert us if we got to the point of needing only one more number to win. We could therefore more or less sit back and let it do the work for us. Whatever we decided, we could always change our minds at any stage and simply click it on or off. Initially Vivien took the view that we should leave autoplay off and stretch our mental reflexes, whereas I felt I'd already done that and was ready for the more slothful approach. Her higher moral ground soon crumbled, so autoplay it was.
We had a few minutes before the main game started at 1pm, which was just enough time to cash in our wine vouchers and order some food. The wine was surprisingly good - chilled pinot grigio or soft fruity merlot - and we each ordered chips with tomato ketchup. There was a full and reasonably priced menu, including an offer of any 2 main courses for only £10 the pair, with items such as chicken kiev as well as the inevitable burgers. The afternoon was shaping up nicely!
Once the game was underway, this was what the computer screen looked like:
The numbers with black triangles are those which have been called. At the bottom of the worm-like space on the right, above the Claim button, you can see it says that I am only 2 numbers away from completing a single line (the top line of the first block on the top left). I was therefore gazing at the screen and listening to the caller, willing him to call out one of my required numbers:
When that happened - as it did for both of us, several times - the single last number needed would appear at the top of the worm, flashing. Meanwhile there was still the possibility of winning that car. I couldn't quite believe it later on when my screen showed a number with a gold star on it, and it was called. Surely I couldn't have won a set of wheels? I tentatively squeaked "Yes" and half raised my hand. The game carried on, as I hadn't been heard. One of the staff had spotted me, however, and came over to see what had happened. I explained and it turned out is was just as well my squeak had been inaudible, as the gold star only applies when you also have a full house - ie virtually never. Feeling a chump, I settled down and carried on staring at my worm.
We were surprised that from time to time, it was announced that the winner of a cash prize was from Ipswich or South Shields or Liverpool. Eventually we realised that some of the games were being played nationally, with people taking part either on-line or via links with other Gala Clubs across the country. The cash prizes then were bigger but our chances of winning were greatly reduced. Or were they? I tried to remember the rules of randomness but couldn't, and decided to believe that my chances were the same no matter how many other people were taking part - unless, as was likely, they were much quicker to react in shouting out and/or pressing the Claim button if their numbers came up.
Each time it got to the point where I needed only one more number, my heart would start pounding as I stared at the flashing number in the worm, willing the caller to announce it. I'd almost given up when suddenly it happened! I hit the Claim button, squeaked "Yes!" and waved my hand, determined this time to be noticed. Amazingly I'd won one of the two highest prizes for a non-national game that afternoon - £100. Far from resenting a beginner's luck, most of the other women smiled approvingly. As I almost never win anything, I was bowled over and so excited.
Once the game ended, Vivien and I went out to the entrance hall to return our screens and for me to collect my winnings. I'd laughingly said that I'd probably find the prize was simply credited to my membership card. As the staff member went to put my screen away, I pointed out that it was showing a balance of £100 - and she said it would be put on my card. No, no. Fortunately a woman in the queue behind me, who was clearly a regular, told me I should ask for the cash and it was duly handed over. Feeling in need of a stiff cup of coffee, we went to the nearby Caffe Nero and indulged.
It had been a very special day, sharing one of my 60 challenges with Vivien, who had had such a huge influence on my past year. If we hadn't met by chance at a mutual friend's lunch party last summer, and started chatting about what she'd been up to recently, I would never have thought of doing the challenges and would have missed out on so many different experiences this year. Thanks to her, my life has been greatly enriched and, with the generous support of friends who've made donations to one or both charities, other lives will have been helped too. We're hoping that someone else will pick up and take over when my year ends in early December - so if you're coming up to 60....
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