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.
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