Partying hard at Sefton St.

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Any excuse for an SMRS party, and last Friday there were two, George's nth birthday (where n is a large positive integer, as my old maths master used to say) and of course Christmas. This time a local take-away establishment was persuaded to take-in a large order for Chinese food, to be laid out in the front lounge for a disorderly queue to form itself around.

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In the rear lounge Jim disguised himself as Father Christmas (being the only one with the stomach for it, not to mention the beard) and distributed assorted hand-picked gifts. These had been thoughtfully acquired by Hilary over twelve months of industrious searching at exhibitions, swap-meets and eBay listings, to ensure we all got exactly what we needed, rather than what we actually deserved.

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The chairman then gave a short speech, for which we were grateful. It reported on a successful year of club activities, acknowledged the hard work put in to make it so, and looked forward to more of the same during the coming year, no.40 in a steadily-increasing history of the society. Which Jim will write, any month now.

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