The Mystery (ho, ho) Guest Ramble.
Christmas Ramble – 14th December 2007 – No. 220.
Those Present – Froggy, Bronco, BT, Sandyballs, Lafayette, Matt, and Mystery
(tee, hee),guest
Of course, nobody knew who the Mystery Guest was going to be this year. Oh, no, not
bloody ‘arf! It couldn’t have been that Mrs Sandyballs in an unguarded (but sober) moment had blown the gaff to Lafayette Oh, no, no, no, no, perish the thought .It must have been the Christmas fairies whispering in the wind that the Mystery Guest was none other than….. whoops, nearly gave it away; You’ll have to read on…..
Sandyballs kindly picked up most of the Nerds from the station and took them back to his house. Unfortunately the Mystery Guest had elected to ramble with us this year contrary to all tradition, and since BT had been skulking around chez Sandyballs clearly looking for a way to break in and pinch all the silver, he unexpectedly ran into he or she.
Nobody was as surprised as Paco (for twas he) to run slap bang into burglar-nerd out to save a bob or two on this year’s Christmas presents, but introductions were effected – “Hello, I’m Burglar- nerd, and you are?” “Don’t you know who I am? I’m Her Majesty’s
Immigration Officer…No, actually I’m the Mystery Guest.” (down cast look).
Just then the others rolled up and were initiated into the fun. So to cover up for his wife’s awful faux pas, Sandyballs roped us all inside and plied us with alcohol and bikkies in a vain attempt to erase the incident from our memories.Soon we remembered nothing at all and Sandyballs led us outside, round the corner, up the hill and over the Downs in the Direction of Ringmer where we were to feast.
The actual ramble was steep and muddy, and those Nerds who were unfit (like, all of us)
began to suffer from dehydration. No problem, a hip flask stop was called for and so we admired the beauty of the Downs while trying to guess what the hell had been in Lafayette’s hip flask 5 years ago when he had last poured anything into it. Lafayette was rewarded for his generosity by being allowed to wear Froggy’s Teletubbie hat and told his new name was The Grand Imperial Wizard of the Whole World – (no, I lie) –shucks!
So on, on we went; a proper ramble today, not just a stroll along the seafront like last time. Mystery Paco Guest was wearing his fetching straw donkey hat and Sandyballs had
obviously taken a fancy to his daughter’s Rupert Bear Scarf. What would Bronco be wearing when we met him at the pub? Something strapless and showing his midriff we all hoped (not).
Narrowly escaping an outbreak of runaway heifers who had got a bit worried by Lafayette’s hat, we plodded on up hill and down dale. We clawed our way up awful tracks and slid down shitty paths bordered with nasty barbed wire fences. Eventually we got lost in a field until Sandyballs put us on the right path and showed us the way to Salvation – or at least The Green Man.
Yes, there was Bronco, nursing a pint, waiting for us in a corner, sound asleep. It’s a hard life being a Nerd! No little black dress, though. Lafayette was bitterly disappointed, he had been hoping to borrow this for some of the more dodgy Christmas parties he had found on the Internet, now he would have to get that old rubber thing out again – bugger!
We were seated opposite some loonies from the local funny farm (strange juxtaposition)
and prepared to pull our crackers. Matt found he had got a golden condom in his, Froggy got a book on creative writing, Mystery Paco Guest got some exploding cigars, and B.T. got fuck all. Serves him right for trying to raid Sandyball’s Christmas presents. By the way have you finished forging that bus pass wot I lent you last month?
Mystery Paco Guest told an amusing tale about some young nymphet who had served up cannabis cakes to him and Sandyballs on the Control one night ( Shirley in uniform, - I wish ), and Froggy wanted to start a Crossing Club, but whether it was for cross dressers like Lafayette or for cross people like Hungerford wasn’t made clear.
The meal, it has to be said, was not brilliant. The turkey and stuff was OK but SB’s steak was not of the highest quality. Matt, ever the arch complainer, and affronted by the cheap gift in his cracker, insisted that the manager be dragged in off the golf course and made to
face the full wrath of the Nerds. Sandyballs said he had seen better bits of meat in girlies’ knickers and the manager finally repented and gave him a reduction in the bill. Thank goodness for Matt and his golden condom.
Time was getting on now; Mystery Paco Guest had to flee back to Seaford to prepare the retirement speech for his party last month and the rest of us wanted a proper drink. Bronco led us out to The Anchor where everyone greeted him, slapped him on the back and showered him with kisses. Bob doesn’t do this in The Engineer which is our local ;
It’s a more manly pub, you see. Sandyballs promptly fell asleep and had his picture taken chewing a beer mat, and BT celebrated Honike (Hanukkah…ed) by trying to circumcise Matt with his big penknife.
Suddenly we all found ourselves outside trying to get on a bus and pretending we were sober…..ish. It was at this point that Froggy’s magnanimous spirit manifested itself . He had seen how much Lafayette had enjoyed looking a dickhead in the Tinky Winky hat
(see photos) and generously said he could keep it for ever. Lafayette was touched, he even offered to take Froggy on the bus with his free pass as the illegitimate dependant of an Old Fart. But friendship can only go so far and Froggy insisted on paying his own fare.
And so another year of excitement ended. Thanks to Sandyballs for the organization, thanks to Froggy for the hat, thanks to Mrs. Sandyballs for spilling the beans and thanks to all the Nerds for being such wonderful, wonderful people; especially the Mystery Guest.
Merry Christmas and Happy Nerding.
Lafayette.
P.S. You don’t actually believe all this rubbish, do you? Well do you? God, I despair!
Friday, December 14, 2007
Monday, November 26, 2007
22/11/2007
N.E.R.D.S. Ramble 220 – 22nd Nov.2007.
The Old Gits on buses Ramble.
Those Present – Sandyballs, Matt, Froggy, Bronco, B.T., Lafayette.
It was the aftermath to Graham Boiling’s funeral – A TN3 Inspector whose charisma had profoundly influenced most of the Nerds’ early immigration careers. So much so that only Matt, in the mistaken belief that G.B. had been a Catholic and somehow influential in the Afterlife, had been to make sure he was really buried. The rest of the Nerds couldn’t be bothered in the sure and certain knowledge that when we each died nobody would attend unless a substantial amount of free drink was offered as an inducement.
So a meeting was convened around chez Lafayette (with a substantial amount of free drink as an inducement) as a prelude to that day’s ramble. Matt waxed lyrical about how his great hero should have been canonized while the rest of the guests scrapped over the chocolate biscuits and rolled around the floor fighting for the last drop of delicious brandy. In the end Matt gave up and started to tell us what a marvelous body his other hero, Ronny (Schwarzenegger) Rebeiro had got.
Enough of this futile idolatry, we had a ramble to get underway. Routemeister Sandyballs, switched off the porn films, beat everyone over the head with an (empty) bottle and forced them out to the nearest bus stop. There was a certain amount of jealousy in the air about the fact that both Lafayette and Matt had schoolboy bus passes enabling them to travel free. Such are the rewards of a long life full of virtue and honesty. Everyone else grumbled, paid their fare and migrated to the top deck to hold loud, drunken conversations and look forward to seeing the schoolgirls at Rodean where we were due to alight.
Sadly all the school girls were all off that day on field trips practicing to be expensive courtesans, so we missed them. Sandy balls had decided on a nifty strategy of getting off the bus within sight of the lunch destination and herding us all back along a concrete, coastal road where we were constantly menaced by women with vicious dogs and boulders tumbling from the cliff top. However, in his favour, Sandyballs had picked a gloriously sunny day when the twinkling of the waves on the sea made us all nostalgic for the days of being proper crossing officers when to do the job properly, uniforms were banned and alcohol was compulsory.
Fighting down the nostalgia we lurched into Rottingdean where Froggy’s internet researches had formed a cunning plan. This involved going to the furthest pub away possible, but which served Harvey’s and was a recruiting ground for the French Foreign Legion. You see Froggy had had such a marvelous time as a young squaddie in a previous existence that he had constantly harboured the secret desire to join up again and fight for his adopted country. The rest of the Nerds thought such ambition wholly misplaced and were already making plans to avoid conscription on age grounds, if not health and safety concerns.
B.T. as official photographer, made us all sit under an apple tree on a bench and grin dementedly at the camera. Whoever sees these works of art he produces on the blog will all be struck by the amazingly handsome features of his models. We now felt so confident of our charms that we set off again in search of any trainee schoolgirl courtesans to wow them with our money. Bet they were all dying to meet us!
After making a diversion all round the village to avoid the French military recruiting agents we all ended up about 50 yards from the previous apple tree in The Plough.
This turned out to be a good pub with no Old Trouts, good service and a room all to ourselves (I wonder why?). After a not bad dinner plus lots of Harvey’s we got down to the serious business of the day – would B.T. be allowed to take Lafayette’s bus pass back to the Forgery Room and substitute his own photo. Bad luck, B.T., nobody will believe your monstrous claim to be 60 after all the lies you’ve put out over the years about your tender age.
More important, wot about the Christmas ramble? Sandyballs had devised a route and organized a mystery guest but wanted to do a dummy run to ensure we didn’t get lost
(hollow laughter). Everyone wanted to join in on the dummy run, even Bronco who said he would like to drive to the pub and be the mystery guest. However it was pointed out that this might actually defeat the object of doing the Christmas ramble on the decided date and having a mystery guest whose identity was supposed to be a secret (think about it!)
Nextly we discounted the 20th year ramble next summer as taking place in Marrakesh, Machu Pichu, the North Pole or Tierra del Fuego as being a teensy weensy bit too difficult to organize, and settled on Dublin again because it was 1) easy to get ramble around if it pissed down with rain (possible) 2) full of good looking foreign women, some of whom might even be Irish , and 3) dead cheap to get to on Ryan Air (& such good gin and tonics).
On the way back on the bus Lafayette was seen to be grooming a pretty school boy for later stardom. B.T . was immediately jealous, feeling he had been displaced as Lafayette’s no.1 catamite but Lafayette said that since BT now claimed to be 60 (see bus pass fraud) he was now too old to be of any further benefit and should accept his sacking gracefully.
Back to The Bridge at Newhaven where we ran into Donna of the face transplant –(Not literally ran into her, that was the Admiral after a heavy day drinking down The Engineer; now he’s got to pay blood money to Bob to buy a new barmaid, silly boy!) and so to bed.
Next ramble is the one where Bronco’s going to be Mystery Guest so try to guess who it’s really going to be. Love to you all - from Lafayette.
The Old Gits on buses Ramble.
Those Present – Sandyballs, Matt, Froggy, Bronco, B.T., Lafayette.
It was the aftermath to Graham Boiling’s funeral – A TN3 Inspector whose charisma had profoundly influenced most of the Nerds’ early immigration careers. So much so that only Matt, in the mistaken belief that G.B. had been a Catholic and somehow influential in the Afterlife, had been to make sure he was really buried. The rest of the Nerds couldn’t be bothered in the sure and certain knowledge that when we each died nobody would attend unless a substantial amount of free drink was offered as an inducement.
So a meeting was convened around chez Lafayette (with a substantial amount of free drink as an inducement) as a prelude to that day’s ramble. Matt waxed lyrical about how his great hero should have been canonized while the rest of the guests scrapped over the chocolate biscuits and rolled around the floor fighting for the last drop of delicious brandy. In the end Matt gave up and started to tell us what a marvelous body his other hero, Ronny (Schwarzenegger) Rebeiro had got.
Enough of this futile idolatry, we had a ramble to get underway. Routemeister Sandyballs, switched off the porn films, beat everyone over the head with an (empty) bottle and forced them out to the nearest bus stop. There was a certain amount of jealousy in the air about the fact that both Lafayette and Matt had schoolboy bus passes enabling them to travel free. Such are the rewards of a long life full of virtue and honesty. Everyone else grumbled, paid their fare and migrated to the top deck to hold loud, drunken conversations and look forward to seeing the schoolgirls at Rodean where we were due to alight.
Sadly all the school girls were all off that day on field trips practicing to be expensive courtesans, so we missed them. Sandy balls had decided on a nifty strategy of getting off the bus within sight of the lunch destination and herding us all back along a concrete, coastal road where we were constantly menaced by women with vicious dogs and boulders tumbling from the cliff top. However, in his favour, Sandyballs had picked a gloriously sunny day when the twinkling of the waves on the sea made us all nostalgic for the days of being proper crossing officers when to do the job properly, uniforms were banned and alcohol was compulsory.
Fighting down the nostalgia we lurched into Rottingdean where Froggy’s internet researches had formed a cunning plan. This involved going to the furthest pub away possible, but which served Harvey’s and was a recruiting ground for the French Foreign Legion. You see Froggy had had such a marvelous time as a young squaddie in a previous existence that he had constantly harboured the secret desire to join up again and fight for his adopted country. The rest of the Nerds thought such ambition wholly misplaced and were already making plans to avoid conscription on age grounds, if not health and safety concerns.
B.T. as official photographer, made us all sit under an apple tree on a bench and grin dementedly at the camera. Whoever sees these works of art he produces on the blog will all be struck by the amazingly handsome features of his models. We now felt so confident of our charms that we set off again in search of any trainee schoolgirl courtesans to wow them with our money. Bet they were all dying to meet us!
After making a diversion all round the village to avoid the French military recruiting agents we all ended up about 50 yards from the previous apple tree in The Plough.
This turned out to be a good pub with no Old Trouts, good service and a room all to ourselves (I wonder why?). After a not bad dinner plus lots of Harvey’s we got down to the serious business of the day – would B.T. be allowed to take Lafayette’s bus pass back to the Forgery Room and substitute his own photo. Bad luck, B.T., nobody will believe your monstrous claim to be 60 after all the lies you’ve put out over the years about your tender age.
More important, wot about the Christmas ramble? Sandyballs had devised a route and organized a mystery guest but wanted to do a dummy run to ensure we didn’t get lost
(hollow laughter). Everyone wanted to join in on the dummy run, even Bronco who said he would like to drive to the pub and be the mystery guest. However it was pointed out that this might actually defeat the object of doing the Christmas ramble on the decided date and having a mystery guest whose identity was supposed to be a secret (think about it!)
Nextly we discounted the 20th year ramble next summer as taking place in Marrakesh, Machu Pichu, the North Pole or Tierra del Fuego as being a teensy weensy bit too difficult to organize, and settled on Dublin again because it was 1) easy to get ramble around if it pissed down with rain (possible) 2) full of good looking foreign women, some of whom might even be Irish , and 3) dead cheap to get to on Ryan Air (& such good gin and tonics).
On the way back on the bus Lafayette was seen to be grooming a pretty school boy for later stardom. B.T . was immediately jealous, feeling he had been displaced as Lafayette’s no.1 catamite but Lafayette said that since BT now claimed to be 60 (see bus pass fraud) he was now too old to be of any further benefit and should accept his sacking gracefully.
Back to The Bridge at Newhaven where we ran into Donna of the face transplant –(Not literally ran into her, that was the Admiral after a heavy day drinking down The Engineer; now he’s got to pay blood money to Bob to buy a new barmaid, silly boy!) and so to bed.
Next ramble is the one where Bronco’s going to be Mystery Guest so try to guess who it’s really going to be. Love to you all - from Lafayette.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Dieppe Raid 2007
N.E.R.D.S Ramble 219 – Dieppe Raid 2007
Those Present – Froggy, Matt, Bronco and Lafayette.
Wednesday 10th October.
You will notice the unfortunate absence of a couple of NERDS on this trip. Still, four’s a quorum (as are three), but two NERDS together is classed only as a couple of blokes going for a drink. The reason for this “NERDS Lite” trip was that Sandyballs had been threatened with not having any balls at all if he went abroad again ( something to do with spending too much time recently in Frankfurt ), and B.T. was again piston broke.
And so it was that the ones who did go assembled at the back of The Seven Sisters (ferry) with all their rucksacks, crampons, boots, wet weather gear, Kendal mint cake etc. looking forward to a couple of days hard scrambling over the cliffs around Dieppe so that they could take back tales of fierce bravery and derring-do to those poor souls who were unable to take part.
First things first. Get a table, make enough noise so that no-one else comes near you, go to the Duty Free shop and buy a bottle of brandy so that you don’t keep having to squabble about who’s turn it is to keep going to the bar and get the drinks. Oh, and keep an eye out just in case the barman decides you’re taking the piss and decides to throw you off in mid Channel.
Having got the essentials sorted out, the pleasantly sunny morning passed in a sort of alcoholic haze until disaster struck. Lafayette noticed one of the barmaids dreamily holding a notice in front of her stating (apparently) that she was “hors de service”. Not being able to resist this gift of an opportunity Lafayette asked her when normal service would be resumed and how much she cost. There was a shriek of Gallic rage at this perceived impertinence; the barmaid called her male colleague who chased Lafayette round the deck, and when he failed to catch him wreaked his revenge on the NERDS’s
rucksacks, crampons, boots, wet weather gear, Kendal mint cake etc by pitching it all over the side.
Oh dear! The Nerds were mortified at Lafayette’s stupidity. How were they going to ramble now? How could they go back and face their fellow Nerds, especially Sandyballs, and confess they hadn’t been able to walk anywhere? Easy peasy, they thought, we’ll just get Froggy who is the (second) biggest fantasist amongst us to spin some tale about where we’ve been and nobody will be any the wiser. Sorted.
And so we checked into the Aguado where Bronco shared with Froggy and Lafayette shared with Matt (rooms that is). We looked out of the window where the sun was shining on the seafront and spotted the chip vans and ice-cream stalls and started to feel hungry. This seemed like a good opportunity to go for a stroll – not a ramble, Lafayette had seen to that – and see what there was to see.
It was a glorious afternoon, the sky and the sea were blue and the promenade was bathed in the sun. The Nerds were only sad that they couldn’t do what they had really come to do so settled for nonching along the seafront in the warmth eating Froggy’s chips and slurping ice-cream. There were girlies in skimpy bathing costumes running screaming into the sea. There were interesting buildings like the casino and the castle to see, and there was lots of beer to drink outside the old Copacabana Café where we tarried for a couple of hours and drank many tearful toasts to the other home bound Nerds who couldn’t be with us . How we missed them!
After a little snooze to mitigate our grief (about not being with our other friends and not being able to ramble) we decided to go out to eat something before we wasted away with sorrow. First of all we found ourselves in a bar whose main customers were little dogs. The bar tender pulled down the outer metal door to within two feet of the pavement as a hint that closure was imminent and we wondered whether we were going to be incarcerated all night on a diet of wotsits and Ricard. However we were pleased to see that the French managed to get over this minor difficulty in their search for alcohol by lying on the pavement and rolling into the bar. So that’s how we exited after trading a few insults about the outcome of the next weekend’s rugby match with the local natives. (Ho, ho, we smashed the French so that’s another bar we can’t go back to)
Finally that day we had an excellent meal in a nearby restaurant (forgotten the name, but they’re all good in Dieppe) where Froggy was just about to go into a strop about the lack of filet de boeuf on the menu when the waitress came over and offered him another sort of meat by waggling her tits at him and saying what an honour it was to have such a famous author at her establishment . This hussy like behaviour seemed to mollify Froggy and yet another strop type crisis was narrowly averted.
We rounded off the day by going to the Tout Va Bien bar on the front and having a long philosophical discussion over coffee and (lots of) calvados about how Statins gives you a dimp lick (sic). Guess who initiated this fascinating topic. And so to bed.
Thursday 11th October
Lafayette was woken by Matt snoring gently into his ear. It must have been quite a night, last night, he thought. Time for breakfast. We were informed of the old French habit of buying your own croissants and being allowed to sit in someone’s café to eat them – provided you paid them for the privilege and the coffee, so off we went to the bakers.
After trying to persuade Froggy not to spend 25 minutes trying to extract every last centime from the Nerds whip purse to avoid breaking into a new 5 euro note, and to just pay the woman, we drifted into the Café de La Paix to indulge in the vile ritual of dipping pastries into coffee cups and spreading crumbs everywhere.
Matts said he recognized the owner of the place from when he had been a galley slave on the Chartres many years ago, so Lafayette enquired and name dropped a bit exaggerating his own modest part in driving this famous vessel on to the rocks many years previously.
The café owner dropped on to one knee in awe and tried to kiss the hem of Lafayette’s anorak. “My good friend Jean-Claude Lagroue (one of the old PAF bosses) will be honoured if you would be gracious enough to leave him a message on the back of this beer mat,” he said “ I am honoured to have such a man as yourself gracing my humble café.” So Lafayette sighed and did the PR bit and waited impatiently until the café owner had cleared away the eager crowds who had come to touch their hero and be dazzled by his great fame.
After such excitement we needed to creep anonymously into the Café Des Tribunaux to steady our nerves with a few café calvas. Now this is a most impressive place. All brass and dark wood with clean bogs and friendly waiters who ask to take your photograph and who don’t need to be asked their names or be told that they’re beautiful just to get them to do so.
Then Lafayette went on a secret mission down one of the side streets for his friend, B.T. You see B.T. wanted to go and retire to France one day where he thought the people were more stupid and where he planned to sell them second rate forgeries of Algerian passports so that they could con their way through UK Border Control control. Sadly B.T. wasn’t terribly sure where France actually was, other than being across the sea somewhere, so a map was required to start him off on his new career.
Now it was time to eat so the Nerds, noting that all the French people in the know were cramming into the Tout Va Bien, did likewise and were rewarded with coquilles Saint Jacques and other such fishy delicacies for lunch. For some reason Froggy wasn’t happy with the service in this place either, and the conversation went as follows: “You’re moaning again.” “No I’m not!” “ Yes you are” “No I’m not, I don’t moan, it’s just the way I talk.” Lafayette was not convinced.
Last stop on the way back to the ferry was in the Cactus Bar where we basked in the sun, drank more beer and vowed we would come back one day and ramble all over the place providing we didn’t get our equipment nicked by French thieves. We had all had a good time and even got to practice our French so the trip hadn’t been entirely wasted.
The True Story
We went to Dieppe
We were lazy and didn’t do any rambling
We didn’t really give a shit, and
We didn’t miss those who didn’t come with us and thought we ought to have rambled.
Thanks to Froggy for organizing bits of it and to Lafayette for organizing other bits. Thanks to Matt and Bronco for coming along, being good company and putting up with the two prima donnas. Thanks to the French for their friendliness and tolerance.
Those Present – Froggy, Matt, Bronco and Lafayette.
Wednesday 10th October.
You will notice the unfortunate absence of a couple of NERDS on this trip. Still, four’s a quorum (as are three), but two NERDS together is classed only as a couple of blokes going for a drink. The reason for this “NERDS Lite” trip was that Sandyballs had been threatened with not having any balls at all if he went abroad again ( something to do with spending too much time recently in Frankfurt ), and B.T. was again piston broke.
And so it was that the ones who did go assembled at the back of The Seven Sisters (ferry) with all their rucksacks, crampons, boots, wet weather gear, Kendal mint cake etc. looking forward to a couple of days hard scrambling over the cliffs around Dieppe so that they could take back tales of fierce bravery and derring-do to those poor souls who were unable to take part.
First things first. Get a table, make enough noise so that no-one else comes near you, go to the Duty Free shop and buy a bottle of brandy so that you don’t keep having to squabble about who’s turn it is to keep going to the bar and get the drinks. Oh, and keep an eye out just in case the barman decides you’re taking the piss and decides to throw you off in mid Channel.
Having got the essentials sorted out, the pleasantly sunny morning passed in a sort of alcoholic haze until disaster struck. Lafayette noticed one of the barmaids dreamily holding a notice in front of her stating (apparently) that she was “hors de service”. Not being able to resist this gift of an opportunity Lafayette asked her when normal service would be resumed and how much she cost. There was a shriek of Gallic rage at this perceived impertinence; the barmaid called her male colleague who chased Lafayette round the deck, and when he failed to catch him wreaked his revenge on the NERDS’s
rucksacks, crampons, boots, wet weather gear, Kendal mint cake etc by pitching it all over the side.
Oh dear! The Nerds were mortified at Lafayette’s stupidity. How were they going to ramble now? How could they go back and face their fellow Nerds, especially Sandyballs, and confess they hadn’t been able to walk anywhere? Easy peasy, they thought, we’ll just get Froggy who is the (second) biggest fantasist amongst us to spin some tale about where we’ve been and nobody will be any the wiser. Sorted.
And so we checked into the Aguado where Bronco shared with Froggy and Lafayette shared with Matt (rooms that is). We looked out of the window where the sun was shining on the seafront and spotted the chip vans and ice-cream stalls and started to feel hungry. This seemed like a good opportunity to go for a stroll – not a ramble, Lafayette had seen to that – and see what there was to see.
It was a glorious afternoon, the sky and the sea were blue and the promenade was bathed in the sun. The Nerds were only sad that they couldn’t do what they had really come to do so settled for nonching along the seafront in the warmth eating Froggy’s chips and slurping ice-cream. There were girlies in skimpy bathing costumes running screaming into the sea. There were interesting buildings like the casino and the castle to see, and there was lots of beer to drink outside the old Copacabana Café where we tarried for a couple of hours and drank many tearful toasts to the other home bound Nerds who couldn’t be with us . How we missed them!
After a little snooze to mitigate our grief (about not being with our other friends and not being able to ramble) we decided to go out to eat something before we wasted away with sorrow. First of all we found ourselves in a bar whose main customers were little dogs. The bar tender pulled down the outer metal door to within two feet of the pavement as a hint that closure was imminent and we wondered whether we were going to be incarcerated all night on a diet of wotsits and Ricard. However we were pleased to see that the French managed to get over this minor difficulty in their search for alcohol by lying on the pavement and rolling into the bar. So that’s how we exited after trading a few insults about the outcome of the next weekend’s rugby match with the local natives. (Ho, ho, we smashed the French so that’s another bar we can’t go back to)
Finally that day we had an excellent meal in a nearby restaurant (forgotten the name, but they’re all good in Dieppe) where Froggy was just about to go into a strop about the lack of filet de boeuf on the menu when the waitress came over and offered him another sort of meat by waggling her tits at him and saying what an honour it was to have such a famous author at her establishment . This hussy like behaviour seemed to mollify Froggy and yet another strop type crisis was narrowly averted.
We rounded off the day by going to the Tout Va Bien bar on the front and having a long philosophical discussion over coffee and (lots of) calvados about how Statins gives you a dimp lick (sic). Guess who initiated this fascinating topic. And so to bed.
Thursday 11th October
Lafayette was woken by Matt snoring gently into his ear. It must have been quite a night, last night, he thought. Time for breakfast. We were informed of the old French habit of buying your own croissants and being allowed to sit in someone’s café to eat them – provided you paid them for the privilege and the coffee, so off we went to the bakers.
After trying to persuade Froggy not to spend 25 minutes trying to extract every last centime from the Nerds whip purse to avoid breaking into a new 5 euro note, and to just pay the woman, we drifted into the Café de La Paix to indulge in the vile ritual of dipping pastries into coffee cups and spreading crumbs everywhere.
Matts said he recognized the owner of the place from when he had been a galley slave on the Chartres many years ago, so Lafayette enquired and name dropped a bit exaggerating his own modest part in driving this famous vessel on to the rocks many years previously.
The café owner dropped on to one knee in awe and tried to kiss the hem of Lafayette’s anorak. “My good friend Jean-Claude Lagroue (one of the old PAF bosses) will be honoured if you would be gracious enough to leave him a message on the back of this beer mat,” he said “ I am honoured to have such a man as yourself gracing my humble café.” So Lafayette sighed and did the PR bit and waited impatiently until the café owner had cleared away the eager crowds who had come to touch their hero and be dazzled by his great fame.
After such excitement we needed to creep anonymously into the Café Des Tribunaux to steady our nerves with a few café calvas. Now this is a most impressive place. All brass and dark wood with clean bogs and friendly waiters who ask to take your photograph and who don’t need to be asked their names or be told that they’re beautiful just to get them to do so.
Then Lafayette went on a secret mission down one of the side streets for his friend, B.T. You see B.T. wanted to go and retire to France one day where he thought the people were more stupid and where he planned to sell them second rate forgeries of Algerian passports so that they could con their way through UK Border Control control. Sadly B.T. wasn’t terribly sure where France actually was, other than being across the sea somewhere, so a map was required to start him off on his new career.
Now it was time to eat so the Nerds, noting that all the French people in the know were cramming into the Tout Va Bien, did likewise and were rewarded with coquilles Saint Jacques and other such fishy delicacies for lunch. For some reason Froggy wasn’t happy with the service in this place either, and the conversation went as follows: “You’re moaning again.” “No I’m not!” “ Yes you are” “No I’m not, I don’t moan, it’s just the way I talk.” Lafayette was not convinced.
Last stop on the way back to the ferry was in the Cactus Bar where we basked in the sun, drank more beer and vowed we would come back one day and ramble all over the place providing we didn’t get our equipment nicked by French thieves. We had all had a good time and even got to practice our French so the trip hadn’t been entirely wasted.
The True Story
We went to Dieppe
We were lazy and didn’t do any rambling
We didn’t really give a shit, and
We didn’t miss those who didn’t come with us and thought we ought to have rambled.
Thanks to Froggy for organizing bits of it and to Lafayette for organizing other bits. Thanks to Matt and Bronco for coming along, being good company and putting up with the two prima donnas. Thanks to the French for their friendliness and tolerance.
Tuesday, August 28, 2007
N.E.R.D.S. RAMBLE No 218 22nd August 2007
Those Present – Froggy, Lafayette, B.T., Muscles Matt, Bronco, Cuddles Crowe,
Dumpling Dwyer.
It had been a dark and stormy night and it was a cold and stormy morning - in August!
The NERDS plus 2 high-ranking and influential, personal friends of Lafayette set off under the guidance of Froggy in the direction of Pevensey’n Westham hoping that they would not be swept away by hurricane Engelberta which was being predicted for the South East region.
Arriving at Westham, Froggy and Matt (or Moggy and Fratt, as I almost wrote) were still bickering about who had been at the wrong end of Sheep Shit Lane where they had been supposed to meet. However, the spat fizzled out and the Boy began to get his act together to lead us all into oblivion. Apparently, Froggy had been in touch with certain Aliens who had beamed him satellite pictures of the route of the proposed ramble. Matt was a bit uncomfortable at the thought that this new, advanced technology might be able to see inside his bedroom when he was amusing himself of an evening, but Froggy assured him that the Aliens were concerned only with himself and had no interest in any other life forms. (They are also in the publishing business, so things are looking up for Froggy).
The first part of the ramble took us over fields liberally sprinkled with cow shit (irritable cow syndrome) and we correctly deduced that cows had recently been there in a strop. We had to scamper across a very dangerous A27 and considered the possibility of making a sedan chair out of branches for Bronco but he managed to get across in the end.
We crossed a river, then more fields, and had a photo opportunity for Lafayette and his influential friends to reminisce about pigs and hunting and stuff long ago in distant lands.
The fact that Cuddles had in fact run a wild pig over once in a fit of pi(g)que was hastily glossed over.
Dumpling made a polite enquiry about how the new uniform regime was catching on with the Home Office, and was given the venomous reply that both nail varnish and musical socks had been banned as had any exotic or misplaced tattoos (Mercy mercy!). Surely this is an infringement of human rights, I feel an industrial tribunal coming on.
Dumpling was shortly afterwards bitten by a malarial bramble and began to bleed to death so we thought we should proceed post haste before he needed the kiss of life.
We proceeded through a farm where the farmer was chopping up bodies, on past an Al Quaeeda look out post manned by an Arab who couldn’t even spell his own name (Osma), and on to a friendly looking farm shop and piggery where the superbly fit and corn fed looking farmer’s wife served us with luscious sausage rolls – a sort of appetizer before lunch. Lafayette caught Cuddles with a homicidal gleam in his eye eying up one of the penned up porkers, but managed to steer him away from the nearest land rover before any harm could be done.
Eventually, we arrived at the Royal Oak and Castle Inn at Pevensey where we had quite a good meal and where Matt began practicing his seduction skills on the barmaid by asking her if she was brown all over or just on the bits he could see. (Good job she was english otherwise there might have been another industrial tribunal). Poor old Matt then got accused by two people of farting in the Gents – much to the amusement of the guy in trap 2 who had been hoping to have a silent and private dump.
And so we proceeded through Pevensey castle to the heron Pub a bit further up the road
where Lafayette and B.T. played each other at bagatelle, skittles and darts, and where the others indulged in intellectual conversation. Finally we all ended up in the Landsdowne Arms in Lewes moaning about the weather and telling awful jokes.
Apart from hurricane Engelberta it had been a good ramble thanks to Froggy once again. It had enabled Lafayette to further his career by brown -nosing his influential friends, so maybe a part time job as a sweeper at Terminal 5 really is on the cards!
Next ramble is the one where nobody can make it in Shropshire so Lafayette will take B.T. up there for three days of drinking, shooting and debauchery. Weep all you others!
Lafayette.
Those Present – Froggy, Lafayette, B.T., Muscles Matt, Bronco, Cuddles Crowe,
Dumpling Dwyer.
It had been a dark and stormy night and it was a cold and stormy morning - in August!
The NERDS plus 2 high-ranking and influential, personal friends of Lafayette set off under the guidance of Froggy in the direction of Pevensey’n Westham hoping that they would not be swept away by hurricane Engelberta which was being predicted for the South East region.
Arriving at Westham, Froggy and Matt (or Moggy and Fratt, as I almost wrote) were still bickering about who had been at the wrong end of Sheep Shit Lane where they had been supposed to meet. However, the spat fizzled out and the Boy began to get his act together to lead us all into oblivion. Apparently, Froggy had been in touch with certain Aliens who had beamed him satellite pictures of the route of the proposed ramble. Matt was a bit uncomfortable at the thought that this new, advanced technology might be able to see inside his bedroom when he was amusing himself of an evening, but Froggy assured him that the Aliens were concerned only with himself and had no interest in any other life forms. (They are also in the publishing business, so things are looking up for Froggy).
The first part of the ramble took us over fields liberally sprinkled with cow shit (irritable cow syndrome) and we correctly deduced that cows had recently been there in a strop. We had to scamper across a very dangerous A27 and considered the possibility of making a sedan chair out of branches for Bronco but he managed to get across in the end.
We crossed a river, then more fields, and had a photo opportunity for Lafayette and his influential friends to reminisce about pigs and hunting and stuff long ago in distant lands.
The fact that Cuddles had in fact run a wild pig over once in a fit of pi(g)que was hastily glossed over.
Dumpling made a polite enquiry about how the new uniform regime was catching on with the Home Office, and was given the venomous reply that both nail varnish and musical socks had been banned as had any exotic or misplaced tattoos (Mercy mercy!). Surely this is an infringement of human rights, I feel an industrial tribunal coming on.
Dumpling was shortly afterwards bitten by a malarial bramble and began to bleed to death so we thought we should proceed post haste before he needed the kiss of life.
We proceeded through a farm where the farmer was chopping up bodies, on past an Al Quaeeda look out post manned by an Arab who couldn’t even spell his own name (Osma), and on to a friendly looking farm shop and piggery where the superbly fit and corn fed looking farmer’s wife served us with luscious sausage rolls – a sort of appetizer before lunch. Lafayette caught Cuddles with a homicidal gleam in his eye eying up one of the penned up porkers, but managed to steer him away from the nearest land rover before any harm could be done.
Eventually, we arrived at the Royal Oak and Castle Inn at Pevensey where we had quite a good meal and where Matt began practicing his seduction skills on the barmaid by asking her if she was brown all over or just on the bits he could see. (Good job she was english otherwise there might have been another industrial tribunal). Poor old Matt then got accused by two people of farting in the Gents – much to the amusement of the guy in trap 2 who had been hoping to have a silent and private dump.
And so we proceeded through Pevensey castle to the heron Pub a bit further up the road
where Lafayette and B.T. played each other at bagatelle, skittles and darts, and where the others indulged in intellectual conversation. Finally we all ended up in the Landsdowne Arms in Lewes moaning about the weather and telling awful jokes.
Apart from hurricane Engelberta it had been a good ramble thanks to Froggy once again. It had enabled Lafayette to further his career by brown -nosing his influential friends, so maybe a part time job as a sweeper at Terminal 5 really is on the cards!
Next ramble is the one where nobody can make it in Shropshire so Lafayette will take B.T. up there for three days of drinking, shooting and debauchery. Weep all you others!
Lafayette.
Catching -up
N.E.R.D.S. Ramble No 217. 18th July 2007.
Those Present – Froggy, Bronco, B.T., Lafayette.
The Day at the Golden Galleon Ramble.
It was sunny and very hot. Those above went to Froggy’s and lay around in his pristine conservatory drinking coffee and Irish whiskey. Bronco hadn’t brought any of his old watches as gifts this time (disappointment) so we admired Froggy’s posh garden and trampoline for a while and then bestirred ourselves to get rambling.
Froggy took us through the highways and secret passages of Seaford down towards the golf course and then left past a farm where there was a cow sale going on.We didn’t have enough money, even in the whip, to buy one and couldn’t quite work out what we’d do with one if we got it anyway, so we had to content ourselves with just getting cow shit all over our boots instead.
Next we met a woman with a boisterous dog and a very wet tennis ball – eugh, dog spit!
And decided we were all conformed cat people instead. At least they just shit in your garden and don’t demand walks or tennis balls etc. So we hurried on to the Golden Galleon to get there quick before the Old Trouts did. We arrived at about ten past twelve and already they were pouring in gnashing their toothless gums and dithering in that charming way they do.
We got a good seat in the garden and found to our delight that the waitresses were (mostly) young and nubile and English (!) One even had red hair (Sandy balls to note).
The meal wasn’t bad and we settled back to hear the latest saga in Froggy’s literary pretensions – “Oceans I have pissed in” Bet this sells a lot of copies! Puts you off going swimming in the sea, doesn’t it ?
Just then the pleasant ginger haired waitress managed to fall into a bush right next to us,
(probably star-struck by Froggy’s literary presence) and enabled B.T. to get out his Laguiole knife and cut her free – what a fairy tale, good job she didn’t kiss him, he might have turned into a frog!
So we sat there basking in the sun for about 5 hours until we decided we should head inland to the Wellington for a change of beer. Along the way there was almost a dispute about whether we should be having a fish supper at a seaside town or not, but we gathered up the toys and put them back in the pram and carried on to the next pub.
There we met Mrs B.T.who had come along to make sure her husband wasn’t trying to rescue any barmaids or anything, and had a few more sunny drinks inside until we all trickled back home as the evening wore on.
Thanks to Froggy for his ramble and pre ramble entertainment. The lad is in charge next month as well, so we might be going further inland this time to try to escape from all the Old Trouts who seem to be following us around waving their bus passes. Lafayette and Matt to note. It’s Bronco’s birthday soon so maybe he’ll organise an entertaining night shift with a Chinese meal and some female company –who knows!
Lafayette.
Those Present – Froggy, Bronco, B.T., Lafayette.
The Day at the Golden Galleon Ramble.
It was sunny and very hot. Those above went to Froggy’s and lay around in his pristine conservatory drinking coffee and Irish whiskey. Bronco hadn’t brought any of his old watches as gifts this time (disappointment) so we admired Froggy’s posh garden and trampoline for a while and then bestirred ourselves to get rambling.
Froggy took us through the highways and secret passages of Seaford down towards the golf course and then left past a farm where there was a cow sale going on.We didn’t have enough money, even in the whip, to buy one and couldn’t quite work out what we’d do with one if we got it anyway, so we had to content ourselves with just getting cow shit all over our boots instead.
Next we met a woman with a boisterous dog and a very wet tennis ball – eugh, dog spit!
And decided we were all conformed cat people instead. At least they just shit in your garden and don’t demand walks or tennis balls etc. So we hurried on to the Golden Galleon to get there quick before the Old Trouts did. We arrived at about ten past twelve and already they were pouring in gnashing their toothless gums and dithering in that charming way they do.
We got a good seat in the garden and found to our delight that the waitresses were (mostly) young and nubile and English (!) One even had red hair (Sandy balls to note).
The meal wasn’t bad and we settled back to hear the latest saga in Froggy’s literary pretensions – “Oceans I have pissed in” Bet this sells a lot of copies! Puts you off going swimming in the sea, doesn’t it ?
Just then the pleasant ginger haired waitress managed to fall into a bush right next to us,
(probably star-struck by Froggy’s literary presence) and enabled B.T. to get out his Laguiole knife and cut her free – what a fairy tale, good job she didn’t kiss him, he might have turned into a frog!
So we sat there basking in the sun for about 5 hours until we decided we should head inland to the Wellington for a change of beer. Along the way there was almost a dispute about whether we should be having a fish supper at a seaside town or not, but we gathered up the toys and put them back in the pram and carried on to the next pub.
There we met Mrs B.T.who had come along to make sure her husband wasn’t trying to rescue any barmaids or anything, and had a few more sunny drinks inside until we all trickled back home as the evening wore on.
Thanks to Froggy for his ramble and pre ramble entertainment. The lad is in charge next month as well, so we might be going further inland this time to try to escape from all the Old Trouts who seem to be following us around waving their bus passes. Lafayette and Matt to note. It’s Bronco’s birthday soon so maybe he’ll organise an entertaining night shift with a Chinese meal and some female company –who knows!
Lafayette.
Lafayette's contribution better late than never!
N.E.R.D.S. Ramble No. 216 – 7th June 2007.
Those Present – Muscles Matt, Lafayette, Froggy, Sandyballs, B.T., Bronco.
The Over The Cliffs Ramble.
Everyone met chez Lafayette for pre ramble drinkies and B.T. showed us his pictures of the last Nerdlings picnic (15 years ago). Since the Nerdlings were all about 30 now and were scattered throughout the universe, this was a bit of ramble nostalgia for us all. Everyone commented on how dark Philby’s beard was back then and how nice he looked in his trendy Basque beret. Sadly, the beret got lost , Philby got lost and all the Nerdlings are probably grandmothers by now.
The meeting continued with Sandyballs texting his dentist because of an outbreak of toothache and an agreement by the NERDS G6 summit that the next anniversary extravaganza would be held in Ireland during June 2008. (This must be to celebrate 20 years of drunkenness, excess, quarrelling and moderate exercise – bit like the average marriage, if you ask me ).
Having come to some agreement about something we all set off along the top of Newhaven cliffs in the direction of Peacehaven towards the Badgers’ Watch (pub).
It was a 2 hour walk and although the sea views were magnificent the weather was overcast and we got a bit strung out ( some of us being either older or not as fit as the rest).
Eventually we reached our lunch destination whereupon Sandyballs produced some free beer vouchers obtained by Mrs Sandyballs in Cliffe Precinct as a promotion. We couldn’t believe our luck when these were honoured – imagine , free beer! Unfortunately there was only a limited number of vouchers so the later excess had to be paid for. The food wasn’t so good, however. Matt complained about the sticky quality of his salad sauce, or something, and Bronco had a bad steak. At least we got free desserts as compensation. All in all we scored 8 free pints of beer and gratis puddings, so not too bad.
Froggy told us he was officially fat but normal (!) whatever he meant by that, and then went on to propose a Giant Google Book of Ramble Write Ups with photos to go global. Lafayette started to get a bit miffed that his own great literary talents were being held up to ridicule here and went into a simmering strop. The general consensus was that we wanted the NERDS to remain unstructured and existential.
Sandyballs decided he wanted to be alone to pursue his own form of exercise and (allegedly) began the long, solitary walk back while the rest of us just sat and drank more (at our own expense). Lafayette led everyone to the bus-stop to practise being a pensioner with his free bus pass, and next to the bus stop we saw a van parked with a woman inside giving a dog a bath (sic). Froggy thought it was a mobile brothel and wanted to join in, but it was just one of those superfluous small businesses that people with more money than sense employ to pamper their pets. (Perhaps we could all club together and give Philby a bath and makeover).
So we all had a pleasant bus ride back to The Ship in Newhaven where we eventually were joined by Sandyballs who complained about unauthorised use of the whip in his absence and grumpily bought his own beer. Did he expect us to go thirsty while he went off on a spurious training exercise? I don’t think so!
Another ramble completed then. Next month Sandyballs goes to Frankfurt to stop the Chinese invading Europe, and the rest of us will be under the masterful domination of Froggy. So prepare for regime change yet again.
Hasta la proxima vez,
Lafayette.
Those Present – Muscles Matt, Lafayette, Froggy, Sandyballs, B.T., Bronco.
The Over The Cliffs Ramble.
Everyone met chez Lafayette for pre ramble drinkies and B.T. showed us his pictures of the last Nerdlings picnic (15 years ago). Since the Nerdlings were all about 30 now and were scattered throughout the universe, this was a bit of ramble nostalgia for us all. Everyone commented on how dark Philby’s beard was back then and how nice he looked in his trendy Basque beret. Sadly, the beret got lost , Philby got lost and all the Nerdlings are probably grandmothers by now.
The meeting continued with Sandyballs texting his dentist because of an outbreak of toothache and an agreement by the NERDS G6 summit that the next anniversary extravaganza would be held in Ireland during June 2008. (This must be to celebrate 20 years of drunkenness, excess, quarrelling and moderate exercise – bit like the average marriage, if you ask me ).
Having come to some agreement about something we all set off along the top of Newhaven cliffs in the direction of Peacehaven towards the Badgers’ Watch (pub).
It was a 2 hour walk and although the sea views were magnificent the weather was overcast and we got a bit strung out ( some of us being either older or not as fit as the rest).
Eventually we reached our lunch destination whereupon Sandyballs produced some free beer vouchers obtained by Mrs Sandyballs in Cliffe Precinct as a promotion. We couldn’t believe our luck when these were honoured – imagine , free beer! Unfortunately there was only a limited number of vouchers so the later excess had to be paid for. The food wasn’t so good, however. Matt complained about the sticky quality of his salad sauce, or something, and Bronco had a bad steak. At least we got free desserts as compensation. All in all we scored 8 free pints of beer and gratis puddings, so not too bad.
Froggy told us he was officially fat but normal (!) whatever he meant by that, and then went on to propose a Giant Google Book of Ramble Write Ups with photos to go global. Lafayette started to get a bit miffed that his own great literary talents were being held up to ridicule here and went into a simmering strop. The general consensus was that we wanted the NERDS to remain unstructured and existential.
Sandyballs decided he wanted to be alone to pursue his own form of exercise and (allegedly) began the long, solitary walk back while the rest of us just sat and drank more (at our own expense). Lafayette led everyone to the bus-stop to practise being a pensioner with his free bus pass, and next to the bus stop we saw a van parked with a woman inside giving a dog a bath (sic). Froggy thought it was a mobile brothel and wanted to join in, but it was just one of those superfluous small businesses that people with more money than sense employ to pamper their pets. (Perhaps we could all club together and give Philby a bath and makeover).
So we all had a pleasant bus ride back to The Ship in Newhaven where we eventually were joined by Sandyballs who complained about unauthorised use of the whip in his absence and grumpily bought his own beer. Did he expect us to go thirsty while he went off on a spurious training exercise? I don’t think so!
Another ramble completed then. Next month Sandyballs goes to Frankfurt to stop the Chinese invading Europe, and the rest of us will be under the masterful domination of Froggy. So prepare for regime change yet again.
Hasta la proxima vez,
Lafayette.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Hello,
Have you visited our "Historical Site" at http://nerdsretrospective.blogspot.com ?
There you may see the ageing process on a bunch of aulde ramblers who were once in the first flush of youth.
Regards, BT
Have you visited our "Historical Site" at http://nerdsretrospective.blogspot.com ?
There you may see the ageing process on a bunch of aulde ramblers who were once in the first flush of youth.
Regards, BT
Saturday, June 02, 2007
NEXT RAMBLE
We're all off again for another sortie, but with Sandyballs as "leader" this time on 7.6.2007. Photographs, perhaps with some scenery this time, and write up will be published on this Blog soon after. Well at least it's "published" rather then Froggy's aphotic 'novel' or is it an autobiography? We hope to enlighten our readers soon with another episode of the NERDS on their explorations of Sussex and its environs.
More Photos
Well done Froggy for supplying some more photos - what happened to the rest of you NERDS,
Friday, June 01, 2007
N.E.R.D.S. – New Forest Rambles – 23rd & 24th May 2007
Those Present – Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Philby, B.T., & Bronco.
Day Uno.
This was going to be a nostalgia trip for the NERDS since we had been to the New Forest umpteen times before, had stayed in the Rose and Crown before, ogled the schoolgirls from the next door college before, and had one or two drinks before. Oh, and apparently we had walked around the Forest a bit as well. Still, why knock a successful formula? The only problem would be keeping the various NERDS factions apart and making sure nobody killed anybody else. (You think I’m joking, don’t you, dear reader).
Froggy had organised where we were going and how we were to get there – so off we set. B.T. drove Sandyballs and Bronco, and probably drove them crazy with his love of shit kickin’country music, while Froggy played Froggy’s greatest hits recorded by Froggy and sung by Froggy to a bored audience of two (Lafayette and Philby).
Eventually, after all this culture we finally arrived at Brockenhurst where Lafayette and Bronco burst out of Froggy’s car and ran off screaming into the Forest for a bit of peace.
They were finally rounded up and plonked down at a table to eat; and this is where the first crisis occurred. Lafayette insisted on being served the special offer Pensioners’ meal which was dead tasty and excellent value at £4.99. Sandyballs, however, thwarted at being only 59 years old, went large and paid about £7.99 for a large fish and chips.
Except that it wasn’t large at all, it was really, really petite and Sandyballs went into a seething grump strop which was only to be exceeded on the last day by someone who didn’t get his beans for breakfast. (Guess who).
Despite getting the best room, Sandyballs shut himself in after lunch and sulked for an hour or so while B.T and Lafayette played hunt the sausage next door and tried to see who could fart the loudest and longest. (probably a draw). Descending later for a few fortifying beers we found that the bar and its environs were more like being back at Heathrow (or Gatwick in Bronco’s case). There were barmaids from Brazil (friendly),
East Germany (serious, stern), West Germany (pleasant) and the barman was Sarth Efrican (confused and incomprehensible). Lafayette stopped everyone fishing for their warrants and told them to just enjoy the scenery – after all, there weren’t any dastardly Nigerians about.
After all this excitement Froggy girded on his map and we ventured out to walk around a bit (called rambling). We had been extremely lucky with the weather which was nice and sunny and hot. The N.F. ponies were all lying around in the heat waiting for someone to wake them with a gin and tonic. We entered the Forest and got lost. Philby and Sandyballs immediately started texting each other (allegedly) even though they were standing only six feet apart. Froggy started to go frantic and began reading his map upside down, B.T. started eyeing up tall trees and manufacturing a noose. We wandered around and enjoyed the sun , the breeze , the gorse and the lostness. Only Froggy was really bothered, the rest of us had had about four pints at lunchtime and really didn’t give a shit. We went near a railway bridge which we were supposed to go under, then along a disused railway line (because it looked pretty), then Lafayette asked an old fart who directed us towards the railway station, and got directions from an excitable matron with a schoolgirl to the Forest Heath Hotel in Sway. And so we went there.
This was a pleasant, olde worlde hotel , as are many found in the Forest, with snotty , unfriendly locals and a big garden to escape into. So we did . It was very bucolic sitting around a table in the sun and not quarrelling. A close moment came when someone complimented Philby on his new hair style and Bronco said he looked like a seasick Iranian naval cadet; but Philby is not the fighting sort (make love, not war) and wandered off to send a text to a few budgies which were penned up in the garden. The rest of us watched an au pair bending down in a sustained doggy fashion pose while she ministered lovingly to her kids. Imaginations ran riot. B.T. said his au pair had liked it doggy fashion until someone pointed out he had got her pregnant and she had ended up as his first wife. Froggy said to any one who was interested that at no stage had he been lost, he just hadn’t known where we were.
The afternoon wore on. We fetched up on Swale station where Lafayette showed everyone an old pensioner’s trick of paying only 5p for any railway journey – useful for when you’re going to Brussels, say. Next we wandered through Brockenhurst to the Snake Catchers Arms which also had a pleasant garden and where we indulged our various hobbies of drinking, texting each other (allegedly), drinking, ringing Shirley in Bexhill and drinking.
That evening we paid a visit to the Indian restaurant where Philby had arrived pissed from Belgium the previous year, and where this year he just got moderately squiffy. Lafayette was getting a headache, and in preparation for the threatened visit of Doctor Magno (bottle of excellent Spanish brandy) drank only water. The meal was good although Froggy did experience some difficulty negotiating the bog door until he realised that he had to use the handle. We staggered off back to the Rose and Crown where Lafayette duly woke up Dr Magno and put him under his arm to take to Bronco’s room.
Now for the fun bit. It was now dark and the NERDS were housed in 2 separate rooms divided by the pub restaurant. It was about 23 00hrs and the pub management wanted to lock the front and back doors. The NERDS wanted to drink themselves stupid but needed the option of returning to their own rooms when Philby started singing, dancing and generally playing up. Lafayette who had once been a Security Officer made sure he had got the key to chez him , B.T. and Sandyballs, and had ponced a front door key off the manager to get everyone back into the main building. With such a well prepared plan nothing could possibly go wrong .
After Dr. Magno had been given a fair belting and the weaker NERDS had fallen asleep on each other’s beds and in each other’s arms (sweet), Lafayette tried to lead his troops back to base only to find that there was a whacking big garden gate in the way which was locked. Alas, the one detail he had neglected. Lafayette was then faced with the not inconsiderable challenge of getting 3 pissed NERDS over a locked gate in the dark, through 2 locked doors and back to their room without a) waking up the whole neighbourhood, and b) without breaking the rest of the bottle of Dr Magno. Suffice it to say that a lot of blundering about and shushing took place, a woodpile was pretty well demolished, a fence was nearly torn down but eventually the keys fitted the right doors and we were back home safe from stupid Belgians.
Day 2
Surprisingly all the NERDS managed to get up for breakfast. Several of us breathed a sigh of relief that the local television news contained no reports of hooligan behaviour or depradations wreaked on the property of a certain New Forest pub. So after filling our faces and wondering at the extreme youth (and skimpy clothes ) of the passing (female) college students we let ourselves be gently led through Brockenhurst by generalissimo
Froggy who was “in charge” that day.
Except that starting off the walk through Brockenhurst was a bit of a mistake . You see it’s full of shops. First of all Sandyballs saw an interesting book in a cycling shop which was going to enable him to cycle non stop up Mount Everest, B.T. felt the need for a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones didn’t quite make him look like Posh Spice, and Philby had been eying up a new wine bar where sexy, naked jail baiters were trying to sell their wares. Soon enough the whole expedition had fallen apart due to distractions and sloppy management and Froggy found himself walking alone through the Forest obliviously talking to himself (as usual).
Anyway after the shopping expedition the NERDS regrouped and ran after Froggy only to find him sitting on a bridge in a bit of a strop. To get back in his good books we said we would name our latest game after him and so was invented the game of Frogsticks. We patiently explained to our leader that this was just a lighthearted way of using the ecological facilities of the Forest and meant that one of us dropped him from the bridge into the river, and rushed to the other side to see how long it took for him to drown or reappear. Then if that worked OK the next NERD would do the same to try to go faster. Froggy thought this was a good idea although he did think we were starting to treat him a bit like a witch rather than the great leader he saw himself as. So we told him he was the best witch doctor we had ever met and he grudgingly agreed to carry on leading us.
Froggy was doing well, he had introduced us to a herd of rare deer and the weird sight of lots of crows socialising together in one field. His reputation was further enhanced when Philby whispered that he had crept into Froggy’s room the previous night, desperate for a drink of anything, and had seen how Froggy was asleep with his bollocks in a glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Obviously these were the two vessels of his charisma and power. Spooky or what?
Eventually, after one or two minor mishaps, we were guided through the dingly dangly
wood, and round the nasty dangerous bog to The Oak Inn where we realised that the New Forest Old Trout Association had narrowly beaten us to lunch. However, after the usual rugby scrum at the bar we got served and settled down to the usual “Spot the Barmaid’s Nationality” competition. Philby lost round one by trying out his one word of Polish on one who said she came from Slovenia (where the fuck…?) anyway Lafayette amused himself by trying to pinch Froggy’s chips whereupon the latter took himself off and spent the rest of his meal standing up sobbing with his plate clutched to his chest. Selfish Bugger!
After a bit more post prandial wandering around we got to the White Swan pub at the edge of the Forest. (You can’t say our leader didn’t take us to some interesting hostelries)
This one we liked. Not only was it decked out like an old gentlemen’s club with comfy armchairs , but it had a dartboard, a friendly landlady and it sold Old Thumper.
For those of you not in the know, this heady kamikaze brew is what turned Sandyballs into a gibbering wreck (not difficult) on a previous New Forest occasion. Jumping right in as usual Sandyballs ordered a pint of the stuff and we all waited with bated breath. Would he throw a beserker like last time? But a beatific smile came over his face and he just slumped to the floor in ectasy. The rest of us just got on and played darts (those of us who weren’t outside texting) and Bronco made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs with his pint of orange juice (what!!!!!) and pretended to be an old gentleman.
We really, really liked this pub and were sad to leave but we had to carry on before the Old Thumper killed us off. So just for a change we visited the Mailman’s Arms in Lyndhurst (not a nice pub but a charming, young blonde barmaid who turned out to be ….….Polish, of course. We all suspect it’s Philby letting them into the country instead of implementing the Home Office quota for hairy Polish plumbers. Now we can all have a drink but no-one can get their taps fixed. How sad.
It was time to return to Brockenhust for tea so Lafayette who was Whipmeister this trip had to negotiate a very expensive bus journey for us all. Unfortunately you can’t go any where for 5p like on the trains. B.T.said he could have got us a better deal but nobody was prepared to take the risk and besides we might have all ended up in the same cell as Froggy.
That evening we visited the Snake Catcher’s Arms for dinner. Food was somewhat basic and Bronco’s chicken was a bit cold (Serves him right for being impatient and climbing into the freezer to try to catch it ). Everyone then decided they wanted to go off in separate directions to crap/sleep/text/play darts, so the stalwarts – Lafayette, Froggy and B.T. went off to the Forester’s Arms (there are a lot of pubs in the New Forest) to play with each other. We had a very jolly time and were eventually mobbed by the local team who had just won a trophy somewhere and had come home to celebrate. However they introduced us to a new game of theirs and even let us play . Lafayette came third out of about twelve so we didn’t do too badly. Then we went back to Sandy balls’s room, woke him up and finished off the bottle of Dr. Magno’s marvellous cure for hangovers.
Day3
Breakfast time again, and “your waitress today is from Peru” (How did she get in? don’t they need work permits?). Anyway we all liked her quaint little South American ways apart from Guess Who who didn’t get any beans for breakfast and caused a mega row in the breakfast room. “I’m a paying customer, I’m a famous author and pop star, I shall have you deported, I want my Mom, where’s my teddy.bear, rant rant, rant, rant..
Eventually the NERDS managed to coax the cowering waitress back out from under the table and picked up the toys which had been scattered around the pram. Peace was eventually restored and we all prepared to go home.
So, another 3 days of fun, excitement, strops, texting, rambles and drinking. We had all enjoyed the sunny weather and the exciting walks . We had met some interesting foreigners (mostly barmaids, waitresses & poledancers ) and seen some strange sights (eg.Bronco drinking orange juice), and survived the annual assault from Old Thumper
(Who let him in? Is he Slovenian?). Thanks , of course go to Froggy, the Super star , for his organisation, hard work and entertainment value. Another ramble next week but on home turf. See you all then.
Lafayette.
Those Present – Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Philby, B.T., & Bronco.
Day Uno.
This was going to be a nostalgia trip for the NERDS since we had been to the New Forest umpteen times before, had stayed in the Rose and Crown before, ogled the schoolgirls from the next door college before, and had one or two drinks before. Oh, and apparently we had walked around the Forest a bit as well. Still, why knock a successful formula? The only problem would be keeping the various NERDS factions apart and making sure nobody killed anybody else. (You think I’m joking, don’t you, dear reader).
Froggy had organised where we were going and how we were to get there – so off we set. B.T. drove Sandyballs and Bronco, and probably drove them crazy with his love of shit kickin’country music, while Froggy played Froggy’s greatest hits recorded by Froggy and sung by Froggy to a bored audience of two (Lafayette and Philby).
Eventually, after all this culture we finally arrived at Brockenhurst where Lafayette and Bronco burst out of Froggy’s car and ran off screaming into the Forest for a bit of peace.
They were finally rounded up and plonked down at a table to eat; and this is where the first crisis occurred. Lafayette insisted on being served the special offer Pensioners’ meal which was dead tasty and excellent value at £4.99. Sandyballs, however, thwarted at being only 59 years old, went large and paid about £7.99 for a large fish and chips.
Except that it wasn’t large at all, it was really, really petite and Sandyballs went into a seething grump strop which was only to be exceeded on the last day by someone who didn’t get his beans for breakfast. (Guess who).
Despite getting the best room, Sandyballs shut himself in after lunch and sulked for an hour or so while B.T and Lafayette played hunt the sausage next door and tried to see who could fart the loudest and longest. (probably a draw). Descending later for a few fortifying beers we found that the bar and its environs were more like being back at Heathrow (or Gatwick in Bronco’s case). There were barmaids from Brazil (friendly),
East Germany (serious, stern), West Germany (pleasant) and the barman was Sarth Efrican (confused and incomprehensible). Lafayette stopped everyone fishing for their warrants and told them to just enjoy the scenery – after all, there weren’t any dastardly Nigerians about.
After all this excitement Froggy girded on his map and we ventured out to walk around a bit (called rambling). We had been extremely lucky with the weather which was nice and sunny and hot. The N.F. ponies were all lying around in the heat waiting for someone to wake them with a gin and tonic. We entered the Forest and got lost. Philby and Sandyballs immediately started texting each other (allegedly) even though they were standing only six feet apart. Froggy started to go frantic and began reading his map upside down, B.T. started eyeing up tall trees and manufacturing a noose. We wandered around and enjoyed the sun , the breeze , the gorse and the lostness. Only Froggy was really bothered, the rest of us had had about four pints at lunchtime and really didn’t give a shit. We went near a railway bridge which we were supposed to go under, then along a disused railway line (because it looked pretty), then Lafayette asked an old fart who directed us towards the railway station, and got directions from an excitable matron with a schoolgirl to the Forest Heath Hotel in Sway. And so we went there.
This was a pleasant, olde worlde hotel , as are many found in the Forest, with snotty , unfriendly locals and a big garden to escape into. So we did . It was very bucolic sitting around a table in the sun and not quarrelling. A close moment came when someone complimented Philby on his new hair style and Bronco said he looked like a seasick Iranian naval cadet; but Philby is not the fighting sort (make love, not war) and wandered off to send a text to a few budgies which were penned up in the garden. The rest of us watched an au pair bending down in a sustained doggy fashion pose while she ministered lovingly to her kids. Imaginations ran riot. B.T. said his au pair had liked it doggy fashion until someone pointed out he had got her pregnant and she had ended up as his first wife. Froggy said to any one who was interested that at no stage had he been lost, he just hadn’t known where we were.
The afternoon wore on. We fetched up on Swale station where Lafayette showed everyone an old pensioner’s trick of paying only 5p for any railway journey – useful for when you’re going to Brussels, say. Next we wandered through Brockenhurst to the Snake Catchers Arms which also had a pleasant garden and where we indulged our various hobbies of drinking, texting each other (allegedly), drinking, ringing Shirley in Bexhill and drinking.
That evening we paid a visit to the Indian restaurant where Philby had arrived pissed from Belgium the previous year, and where this year he just got moderately squiffy. Lafayette was getting a headache, and in preparation for the threatened visit of Doctor Magno (bottle of excellent Spanish brandy) drank only water. The meal was good although Froggy did experience some difficulty negotiating the bog door until he realised that he had to use the handle. We staggered off back to the Rose and Crown where Lafayette duly woke up Dr Magno and put him under his arm to take to Bronco’s room.
Now for the fun bit. It was now dark and the NERDS were housed in 2 separate rooms divided by the pub restaurant. It was about 23 00hrs and the pub management wanted to lock the front and back doors. The NERDS wanted to drink themselves stupid but needed the option of returning to their own rooms when Philby started singing, dancing and generally playing up. Lafayette who had once been a Security Officer made sure he had got the key to chez him , B.T. and Sandyballs, and had ponced a front door key off the manager to get everyone back into the main building. With such a well prepared plan nothing could possibly go wrong .
After Dr. Magno had been given a fair belting and the weaker NERDS had fallen asleep on each other’s beds and in each other’s arms (sweet), Lafayette tried to lead his troops back to base only to find that there was a whacking big garden gate in the way which was locked. Alas, the one detail he had neglected. Lafayette was then faced with the not inconsiderable challenge of getting 3 pissed NERDS over a locked gate in the dark, through 2 locked doors and back to their room without a) waking up the whole neighbourhood, and b) without breaking the rest of the bottle of Dr Magno. Suffice it to say that a lot of blundering about and shushing took place, a woodpile was pretty well demolished, a fence was nearly torn down but eventually the keys fitted the right doors and we were back home safe from stupid Belgians.
Day 2
Surprisingly all the NERDS managed to get up for breakfast. Several of us breathed a sigh of relief that the local television news contained no reports of hooligan behaviour or depradations wreaked on the property of a certain New Forest pub. So after filling our faces and wondering at the extreme youth (and skimpy clothes ) of the passing (female) college students we let ourselves be gently led through Brockenhurst by generalissimo
Froggy who was “in charge” that day.
Except that starting off the walk through Brockenhurst was a bit of a mistake . You see it’s full of shops. First of all Sandyballs saw an interesting book in a cycling shop which was going to enable him to cycle non stop up Mount Everest, B.T. felt the need for a new pair of sunglasses because his old ones didn’t quite make him look like Posh Spice, and Philby had been eying up a new wine bar where sexy, naked jail baiters were trying to sell their wares. Soon enough the whole expedition had fallen apart due to distractions and sloppy management and Froggy found himself walking alone through the Forest obliviously talking to himself (as usual).
Anyway after the shopping expedition the NERDS regrouped and ran after Froggy only to find him sitting on a bridge in a bit of a strop. To get back in his good books we said we would name our latest game after him and so was invented the game of Frogsticks. We patiently explained to our leader that this was just a lighthearted way of using the ecological facilities of the Forest and meant that one of us dropped him from the bridge into the river, and rushed to the other side to see how long it took for him to drown or reappear. Then if that worked OK the next NERD would do the same to try to go faster. Froggy thought this was a good idea although he did think we were starting to treat him a bit like a witch rather than the great leader he saw himself as. So we told him he was the best witch doctor we had ever met and he grudgingly agreed to carry on leading us.
Froggy was doing well, he had introduced us to a herd of rare deer and the weird sight of lots of crows socialising together in one field. His reputation was further enhanced when Philby whispered that he had crept into Froggy’s room the previous night, desperate for a drink of anything, and had seen how Froggy was asleep with his bollocks in a glass of water on the bedside table next to him. Obviously these were the two vessels of his charisma and power. Spooky or what?
Eventually, after one or two minor mishaps, we were guided through the dingly dangly
wood, and round the nasty dangerous bog to The Oak Inn where we realised that the New Forest Old Trout Association had narrowly beaten us to lunch. However, after the usual rugby scrum at the bar we got served and settled down to the usual “Spot the Barmaid’s Nationality” competition. Philby lost round one by trying out his one word of Polish on one who said she came from Slovenia (where the fuck…?) anyway Lafayette amused himself by trying to pinch Froggy’s chips whereupon the latter took himself off and spent the rest of his meal standing up sobbing with his plate clutched to his chest. Selfish Bugger!
After a bit more post prandial wandering around we got to the White Swan pub at the edge of the Forest. (You can’t say our leader didn’t take us to some interesting hostelries)
This one we liked. Not only was it decked out like an old gentlemen’s club with comfy armchairs , but it had a dartboard, a friendly landlady and it sold Old Thumper.
For those of you not in the know, this heady kamikaze brew is what turned Sandyballs into a gibbering wreck (not difficult) on a previous New Forest occasion. Jumping right in as usual Sandyballs ordered a pint of the stuff and we all waited with bated breath. Would he throw a beserker like last time? But a beatific smile came over his face and he just slumped to the floor in ectasy. The rest of us just got on and played darts (those of us who weren’t outside texting) and Bronco made himself comfortable in one of the armchairs with his pint of orange juice (what!!!!!) and pretended to be an old gentleman.
We really, really liked this pub and were sad to leave but we had to carry on before the Old Thumper killed us off. So just for a change we visited the Mailman’s Arms in Lyndhurst (not a nice pub but a charming, young blonde barmaid who turned out to be ….….Polish, of course. We all suspect it’s Philby letting them into the country instead of implementing the Home Office quota for hairy Polish plumbers. Now we can all have a drink but no-one can get their taps fixed. How sad.
It was time to return to Brockenhust for tea so Lafayette who was Whipmeister this trip had to negotiate a very expensive bus journey for us all. Unfortunately you can’t go any where for 5p like on the trains. B.T.said he could have got us a better deal but nobody was prepared to take the risk and besides we might have all ended up in the same cell as Froggy.
That evening we visited the Snake Catcher’s Arms for dinner. Food was somewhat basic and Bronco’s chicken was a bit cold (Serves him right for being impatient and climbing into the freezer to try to catch it ). Everyone then decided they wanted to go off in separate directions to crap/sleep/text/play darts, so the stalwarts – Lafayette, Froggy and B.T. went off to the Forester’s Arms (there are a lot of pubs in the New Forest) to play with each other. We had a very jolly time and were eventually mobbed by the local team who had just won a trophy somewhere and had come home to celebrate. However they introduced us to a new game of theirs and even let us play . Lafayette came third out of about twelve so we didn’t do too badly. Then we went back to Sandy balls’s room, woke him up and finished off the bottle of Dr. Magno’s marvellous cure for hangovers.
Day3
Breakfast time again, and “your waitress today is from Peru” (How did she get in? don’t they need work permits?). Anyway we all liked her quaint little South American ways apart from Guess Who who didn’t get any beans for breakfast and caused a mega row in the breakfast room. “I’m a paying customer, I’m a famous author and pop star, I shall have you deported, I want my Mom, where’s my teddy.bear, rant rant, rant, rant..
Eventually the NERDS managed to coax the cowering waitress back out from under the table and picked up the toys which had been scattered around the pram. Peace was eventually restored and we all prepared to go home.
So, another 3 days of fun, excitement, strops, texting, rambles and drinking. We had all enjoyed the sunny weather and the exciting walks . We had met some interesting foreigners (mostly barmaids, waitresses & poledancers ) and seen some strange sights (eg.Bronco drinking orange juice), and survived the annual assault from Old Thumper
(Who let him in? Is he Slovenian?). Thanks , of course go to Froggy, the Super star , for his organisation, hard work and entertainment value. Another ramble next week but on home turf. See you all then.
Lafayette.
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Old Crocks Ramble
The Old Crocks Ramble –No 214 - 25th April 2007
Those Present – Lafayette, Muscles Matt, B.T., Froggy, Bronco, plus sort of Mystery Guest.
Froggy was still Weltmeister this month and guided us all to Vic’s on Lewes station where we sat down and did a pre- ramble stock taking.
Lafayette had had keyhole surgery and his keyhole was still poorly; Muscles Matt had been bending down doing something suspect and had done his back in; Bronco was just about held together with Sellotape and Sandyballs had phoned in sick saying he couldn’t stomach the idea of another ramble. All in all not the best of auguries, you might agree.
After having received management guidance on how to proceed ( Make a plan, stick to the broad outline, don’t give anybody any choices and if they dissent tell them to fuck off etc) Froggy put the NERDS on a train to Berwick. What he hadn’t foreseen was that most of the Lewes Geriatric Ramble Soc. were boarding the same train and appeared to be going to the same destination. The only saving grace was they all seemed older and more infirm than the NERDS. Froggy knew we would have to race to the first pub quick before Old Trout Syndrome could set in. ( For the benefit of new readers this is when you can’t get a drink at the bar because of lovely old people before you in the queue procrastinating and wrangling among themselves about the cost of a round).
Sure enough, Lewes Geriatsoc all got off with us at Berwick. Lafayette decided to seduce one with his charm, and politely enquired in which direction they were bound. When told they were headed towards Alfriston (the opposite direction from us) he raved on about how attractive a destination it was and how only posh people went there so that said Old Trout wondered whether she should have worn her diamonds for this trip and whether she ought to curtsey to the yokels there.
We were led at a cracking pace along a cycle path to The Cricketers where Lafayette had instructed Froggy to tell everyone we were having lunch – no question. Hurray, we had got there first although there were tell tale signs of Old Farts massing outside in the orchard. Inside we bagged the biggest table and set about demolishing 4- pint jugs of Harvey’s before anybody really old could get a look in. Matt praised B.T. for his long Michael Heseltine-type hair, and B.T. said that if he didn’t shut up he’d jump on his bad back and tell every one how he’d really done his injury.
Lafayette was looking with interest at the menu board which promised the delights of creaky mushrooms on steak. Sadly, the chef said it was a spelling mistake.(creamy mushrooms – geddit!) Anyway, after an exhorbitantly priced lunch which was really only so so, we headed over the fields towards the Rose and Crown where we renewed our acquaintance with the landlord and his parrot-in-a-cage. The parrot had originally been an Old Trout who had had the temerity to get to the head of the queue at lunchtime one day, and had dithered so much that she had been transformed and incarcerated by a wicked fairy in the pay of the NERDS. Serves her right –should have stayed at home!
Apparently the next day was Froggy’s birthday which his family were all feigning to be ignorant of to get out of having to buy him presents, so the NERDS rapidly changed the subject and wondered what was happening with Sandyballs and his rambling malaise. Right on cue we got a phone call with a grovelling apology and the news that Sandyballs had miraculously got better and could he join us for a drink. An extraordinary NERDS committee was convened and by a narrow majority the decision was positive. Froggy was pissed off thinking that the ramble had gone all democratic. Quote – “This is my ramble and you’ll all do as I’m (sic) told.” unquote. Grumbling at the effect this was having on our various ailments, we lurched to our feet to carry on to the rendezvous at the Barley Mow.
Sandyballs had apparently been inhaling a new brand of crack cocaine which had upset his tummy, ( Bronco at least had the politeness to go behind a bush to shoot up) but Sandyballs had got over this and decided that life might be a bit short in his usual narcotics den since all his fellow addicts were lying around dead. A bit of fresh air in a musty pub would soon put him right, he thought.
With Sandyball’s arrival things went downhill – Froggy wanted to give him a powerpoint presentation of events so far, and a general squabble about the New Forest driving arrangements took place (Yes, B.T. it is you). Sandyballs decided he was going to be a mystery guest every month since you got to drink and eat chips and cut out the boring walking bits. After this we adjourned to the John Harvey in Lewes (some of us by car) and thereafter to the Cypo chip shop at the end of the road.
Another enjoyable outing thanks again to Froggy’s excellent organisational and management skills (plus a little help here and there) and we look forward to the New Forest Trip next month when his talents will really be put to the test. Happy birthday Froggy, at least your Mom loved you.
Lafayette.
Those Present – Lafayette, Muscles Matt, B.T., Froggy, Bronco, plus sort of Mystery Guest.
Froggy was still Weltmeister this month and guided us all to Vic’s on Lewes station where we sat down and did a pre- ramble stock taking.
Lafayette had had keyhole surgery and his keyhole was still poorly; Muscles Matt had been bending down doing something suspect and had done his back in; Bronco was just about held together with Sellotape and Sandyballs had phoned in sick saying he couldn’t stomach the idea of another ramble. All in all not the best of auguries, you might agree.
After having received management guidance on how to proceed ( Make a plan, stick to the broad outline, don’t give anybody any choices and if they dissent tell them to fuck off etc) Froggy put the NERDS on a train to Berwick. What he hadn’t foreseen was that most of the Lewes Geriatric Ramble Soc. were boarding the same train and appeared to be going to the same destination. The only saving grace was they all seemed older and more infirm than the NERDS. Froggy knew we would have to race to the first pub quick before Old Trout Syndrome could set in. ( For the benefit of new readers this is when you can’t get a drink at the bar because of lovely old people before you in the queue procrastinating and wrangling among themselves about the cost of a round).
Sure enough, Lewes Geriatsoc all got off with us at Berwick. Lafayette decided to seduce one with his charm, and politely enquired in which direction they were bound. When told they were headed towards Alfriston (the opposite direction from us) he raved on about how attractive a destination it was and how only posh people went there so that said Old Trout wondered whether she should have worn her diamonds for this trip and whether she ought to curtsey to the yokels there.
We were led at a cracking pace along a cycle path to The Cricketers where Lafayette had instructed Froggy to tell everyone we were having lunch – no question. Hurray, we had got there first although there were tell tale signs of Old Farts massing outside in the orchard. Inside we bagged the biggest table and set about demolishing 4- pint jugs of Harvey’s before anybody really old could get a look in. Matt praised B.T. for his long Michael Heseltine-type hair, and B.T. said that if he didn’t shut up he’d jump on his bad back and tell every one how he’d really done his injury.
Lafayette was looking with interest at the menu board which promised the delights of creaky mushrooms on steak. Sadly, the chef said it was a spelling mistake.(creamy mushrooms – geddit!) Anyway, after an exhorbitantly priced lunch which was really only so so, we headed over the fields towards the Rose and Crown where we renewed our acquaintance with the landlord and his parrot-in-a-cage. The parrot had originally been an Old Trout who had had the temerity to get to the head of the queue at lunchtime one day, and had dithered so much that she had been transformed and incarcerated by a wicked fairy in the pay of the NERDS. Serves her right –should have stayed at home!
Apparently the next day was Froggy’s birthday which his family were all feigning to be ignorant of to get out of having to buy him presents, so the NERDS rapidly changed the subject and wondered what was happening with Sandyballs and his rambling malaise. Right on cue we got a phone call with a grovelling apology and the news that Sandyballs had miraculously got better and could he join us for a drink. An extraordinary NERDS committee was convened and by a narrow majority the decision was positive. Froggy was pissed off thinking that the ramble had gone all democratic. Quote – “This is my ramble and you’ll all do as I’m (sic) told.” unquote. Grumbling at the effect this was having on our various ailments, we lurched to our feet to carry on to the rendezvous at the Barley Mow.
Sandyballs had apparently been inhaling a new brand of crack cocaine which had upset his tummy, ( Bronco at least had the politeness to go behind a bush to shoot up) but Sandyballs had got over this and decided that life might be a bit short in his usual narcotics den since all his fellow addicts were lying around dead. A bit of fresh air in a musty pub would soon put him right, he thought.
With Sandyball’s arrival things went downhill – Froggy wanted to give him a powerpoint presentation of events so far, and a general squabble about the New Forest driving arrangements took place (Yes, B.T. it is you). Sandyballs decided he was going to be a mystery guest every month since you got to drink and eat chips and cut out the boring walking bits. After this we adjourned to the John Harvey in Lewes (some of us by car) and thereafter to the Cypo chip shop at the end of the road.
Another enjoyable outing thanks again to Froggy’s excellent organisational and management skills (plus a little help here and there) and we look forward to the New Forest Trip next month when his talents will really be put to the test. Happy birthday Froggy, at least your Mom loved you.
Lafayette.
Thursday, March 15, 2007
March 14th Ramble
Fantastic weather again even though "Sandyballs" was not with us but the leadership did take us through copious amounts of brown mud. Some photographs attached.
Saturday, March 10, 2007
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)