Best of British No. 3: The Coffee Morning

Last Saturday, my mother, youngest sister and I went to a coffee morning. It's been a while since I went to one, and, being somewhat out of the habit of coffee morning attendance, I was able to observe it with, as it were, new eyes. Not really new eyes, you understand- I'm still myope comme une taupe, or blind as a bat, depending on which small mammal you want me to be. But yes. Anyway.

I'm not sure coffee mornings even exist outside the UK, so I'd probably better explain. The principle is that individuals, often but not exclusively women of a certain age, gather to drink coffee and eat biscuits in the name of charity. You pay for entry, which entitles you to the said drink-and-a-biscuit. In actual fact, it's more or less an institutionalised form of elevenses (see previous Best of British post).

Then, there is the raffle. There is always, always a raffle. It is rare for anyone to enter a raffle because they actually want to win one of the prizes. Coffee morning raffle prizes are notorious for being re-donated to the next coffee morning raffle, so the same things go round again and again and again, until some small child wins one of the prizes and gives it to a great aunt for Christmas, at which point the prize may be displaced geographically and enter onto another town's coffee morning circuit. People buy tickets because, well, it's vaguely fun in a soft-gambling sort of way, and it's another way of supporting the charity.

On top of the raffle, there's always a cake stall and a tombola, which works along the same lines as the raffle, a bric-a-brac stall or two, and a book stall if you're lucky.

Then- and this is what I really wanted to talk about- there are the games.

Saturday's coffee morning was the district Brownie and Guide one. This species of coffee morning is notorious on a number of counts. First, you don't go for the coffee: the leaders see these occasions as the ideal opportunity for Brownies to pass their Hostess badge, so you get half a cup of lukewarm coffee served by a seven-year-old who will, more likely than not, manage to get the remaining contents of the cup all over the table. Secondly, the cake stall is presided over by the Trefoil Guild (retired guiders who often bear more than a passing resemblance to Miss Trunchbull in Matilda) who charge ridiculous prices and refuse to smile. Thirdly, they make the Guides come up with new games each time. This Saturday's was a classic, possibly the worst I've ever seen.

Dropping two-pence pieces onto five-pence pieces in a bucket full of water.

No kidding.

£1 for five goes, and if you managed to cover the 5p with your 2p, then you won a penny sweet.

Seriously. And then they wonder why the Guide stalls never make any money.