I grew up around some pretty imaginative people. For several years my parents helped run a beach mission in St Andrews, and I was one of the kids who got to run around and play with all of the enthusiastic young people running it. I do vividly remember my first Serompie though. I would be about 8 (and incredibly gullible) and I had not been allowed to go to one before I was too scared. It was held in St Martyrs church hall; all the boys were “Seromperiferers” and all the girls were “Seromperiferinas” There were games and the like, but the highlight of the evening were the refreshments.
We were all sat down and told to be very quiet. It was explained to us that the biscuits (gingernuts) we were about to eat were very dangerous, and we couldn’t eat the biscuits without drinking the special safety juice (diluted orange juice with green food colouring), otherwise we’d explode. What on earth convinced me to eat them in the first place I have no clue, but I was totally sucked in.
They wheeled in a borrowed shopping trolley, done up with sheets, as if transporting something very delicate. They may even have been wearing surgical masks. About 10 seconds after they walked in the door an old fashioned alarm clock went off and scared the willies out of me. I was very careful to have a sip of juice with every bite of the biscuit, and miraculously I survived.