Tuesday, June 02, 2009
YO Nerds, As you know, our next expedition is on Wednesday 10th June. A short, level stroll around the village of Barcombe. Hopefully Bronco can join us (with or without Crunchie). Matt , we hope can walk with us if he is fit. BT may be in France buying vast tracks of land. Can Bronco , BT and Matt let me know if they are going to make it? The Royal Oak does not open till 12 noon so a slightly later train from Seaford Central at 10.25 - Newhaven Town at 10.32. I will meet Frog and Lafayette ( and Matt?) at Lewes at 10.45 in my green machine. Then drive to pick up Bronco at Ringmer (BT at his place?) then drive to Barcombe to start the ramble. One thing to mention. Even if the weather is hot and sultry as is now, I would not recommend the wearing of shorts - unless you combine this with the carrying of a machete. As for the July ramble, Frog and are looking at Wednesday 29th. Hope you can make it. Please let me know if any problems. Request in for myself, Frog and Bronco. Lafayette. Thanks for sending the write-ups . Unfortunately I could not open the attatchment - neither could Frog. Lafayette may have pressed the wrong buttons. Can you try again? See at least some of you next Wednesday. Sandyballs
April's and May's Ramble at last
THE N.E.R.D.S. Rambles 233 & 234.
Ramble No. 233
Those present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Matt, Lafayette, B.T.
The Hamish Findlay Ramble.
Wednesday 15th April 2009.
The reason for this title will be seen towards the end of the write-up. Anyway, Froggy picked us up at Seaford station and we all went off to Matt’s for pre-ramble refreshment. Seated in his posh, well kept garden we all idly mused about why his bird table had nasty, wicked spikes around it - presumably to prevent any birds from gathering there to feed!! Another Nerds’ mystery indeed. Meanwhile B.T. played at being a paparazzo and danced around the table taking photos for posterity ( just like the last 20 years of photos were, ha, ha ). Lafayette’s notes record that Froggy had decided to come out that year and was asking Matt advice about golf (Maybe the notes had got a little confused here), however Matt replied by giving Froggy his tip of the week ie. how to use a safety pin to repair a bust trouser zip. (Very confused notes!).
Apparently Sally had told Froggy that the Nerds mustn’t see their front garden because it was unfinished (Were we going to hold a fete here or something?)and then Matt walzed out into the garden wearing a teeshirt featuring Elton John and Keith Alan, and said he was going to leave all his money to The Catholic Boys Non Buggering Society. (Why??)
So, after all this surrealism Sandyballs decided that it was time to ramble and dragged us out through twitterns and all around bourgeois Seaford towards The Golden Galleon to get lunch. Along the way Matt had a stroke of luck spotting a £20 note on the ground which Lafayette pointed out to him . Then began a long agonising period of Catholic guilt of what to do with this windfall. Lafayette suggested that he spend it on drink but Matt wanted to change the world and donate it to all the abused in Ireland. Lafayette said they’d all been abused because of drink anyway and he might as well make a few Nerds happy without all this guilt bollocks. (You can guess that Lafayette had been brought up as a Protestant) so Matt was finally persuaded to spend it in the pub after deciding to make a small contribution to Our Lady of Abstinence in the next Catholic church he came across. (In the event Froggy claimed some two weeks later that he had lost £20, but we all thought this was a bit Jesuitical and turned down his appeal).
On, on to the Golden Galleon where Bronco was supposed to meet us but wasn’t there and Froggy couldn’t raise him by phone. Maybe he’d forgotten it was Nerds’ ramble day (grounds for excommunication) or maybe he’d got thrown off his horse again -whatever, he just failed to turn up. So to console ourselves we settled down and tried to pack ourselves full of calories. (Lafayette has to put his hands up at this point - confused notes - and say that it was actually Froggy’s ramble that day and we were supposed to go as far as the Plough and Harrow in Jevington. However due to all the Catholic Guilt Time Wasting earlier on it was decided to stay at the Golden Galleon).
It was nice and sunny sitting outside the pub even though there was a ferocious wind blowing up from the sea. The meal was served by cute girlies who titillated our hormones and Froggy got so horny he waved his nipples in the air (at Matt’s instigation) and treated us to a sight of his dorsal lump - some sort of mating ritual, apparently. Sandyballs mentioned he was going to put his future (putative) grandson down for entry to the Nerds as there was such a long waiting list to get in (we need some new blood, everybody else is either dead, dying or gone crook).
Then a pleasant walk back along the cliffs where we got caught having a piss in the bushes by real ramblers and where there weren’t any more suspicious £20 notes to pick up. (No more miracles; Lafayette blamed The Catholics and vowed to start his own Bonfire Society in Lewes).
Descending from the cliffs to the beach someone mentioned that Philby had once owned some crappy old beach hut in the environs which was now putrefactious and full of empty red wine bottles. So in the hope of finding it and possibly of discovering an overlooked full bottle we wandered along the front and came across a dazzlingly well looked after beach hut in the possession of none other than one time drunken shagger, Hamish Findlay! How nice it was to see him and didn’t he look well! Well I suppose you would for one who had managed to retire from a non job at Newhaven at the tender age of about 40. (just jealous, that’s all).
Hamish looked the picture of health despite actually not being all that well, and had a tan which made him look as if he had just got back from Barbados. He denied this, of course, and reckoned it was just the effect of lounging around outside his beach hut, drinking tea and luring ladies inside for his entertainment. He treated all the Nerds to tea and biscuits and we all caught up on a lot of history together. Sadly, a lot of women kept coming up looking impatiently at the Nerds so we decided to leave Hamish to his pleasures and clear off. Nice to see him again, though.
And so the ramble fizzled out somewhere outside the Wellington at Seaford. It had been a pleasant, sunny day and we had seen an old friend. Lafayette now has to get his second set of notes in order to record The Nasty Steep, Steep Ramble which took place the following month in the environs of Lewes.
Lafayette.
Ramble No. 234
Those present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Lafayette, B.T, Bronco, Julian, Andy and Rupert Thomas and Tony (who?)
The Really, Really Steep Ramble.
Tuesday 12th May 2009.
Sandyballs in charge again this month. It was the occasion of the last week of employment of Fat Peter, landlord of the Trevor Arms at Firle, and the Nerds (and others) were going to show their appreciation of his past services by attempting to drink his pub dry before the next landlord could take up residency.
Sandyballs had engaged the services of two native sherpas - Jules (Chinky) Thomas and Andy (Rimbaud ) Thomas, both of whom were indefatigable patrons of the Trevor. They had brought along Rupert (Mounty) Thomas - yet another brother, someone called Tony who was along for the ride.
The ramble began inauspiciously by the Thomas Bros leading the Nerds out of Lewes and up, up that steep hill that goes up to the golf course. The Nerds had had experience of this before when Bronco had decided that his future Nerd’s career was to be spent on even surfaces or else in the warmth and relative safety of any bar in a pub the Nerds happened to be visiting. Briefly then, the hill was steep. But worse, much worse was to come.
After getting up to the golf course the Nerds stopped to pant and recount. Nobody had died yet. Lafayette strode off with Mounty Thomas who was telling him about the book he had written about er… mounties. Lafayette was impressed, it wasn’t often he met two famous authors in a week. This Thomas brother despite being somewhat rotund, was obviously very fit (cycling, you see) and led Lafayette panting and gasping far ahead of the main band.
Lafayette must then have had a little sleep because when he awoke he was at the bottom of The Hill of Despair which Chinky Thomas told him gleefully was awfully steep. And, God , he wasn’t wrong Everyone ground their way upwards and upwards and upwards. The bloody hill went on forever with no let up . Lafayette wished he’d done a bit more cycling to keep fit but it was too late now. On, on he went until turning round to throw up on a sheep turd he spied a solitary figure way, way at the back of the group in worse difficulties than himself. It was poor B.T. who everyone had forgotten about so busy had they been gassing to each other (or puking like Lafayette). B.T. was obviously suffering the effects of his frequent trips to France and his excursions into French cuisine which had made him into a bit of a porky worky.
Slowly he managed to make his way up the hill until he and Lafayette lay panting together and cursing the Brothers Thomas who were inflicting this torture on them both.But eventually they recovered and followed the others down the pleasant green slope into Firle village where the Trevor Arms lay.
And there was Fat Peter, as rotund as ever and in his usual welcoming mood. He had clearly seen what a state B.T. and Lafayette were in so he gave everyone a free drink which endeared us to him even more. After a few more drinks and a suitable period of recovery, B.T. came up with the money spinning idea of producing a Nerds nude calendar ( what an original idea!) . Lafayette said he didn’t mind as long as Morgane was the photographer and took off her clothes too, but B.T.was unfortunately having none of that. Froggy said he quite liked the idea of someone making him famous by photographing his lump, and it might even enable him to get a contract with Heat Magazine. B.T didn’t seem too keen on this idea either. But just then Bronco arrived.
Now these days Bronco doesn’t walk a lot - something to do with his corns or something, but he can smell when a drink is going a mile off. Of course he is very well known by everybody in the Trevor and was suitably greeted. Sandyballs had suddenly spotted a couple of old friends who had coincidentally arrived at the same time for lunch. Twas Deaf Dog Mike and his wife, La Diva Daphne who had travelled from Eastbourne after paying homage at the grave of The Deaf Dog (now deceased).
Lunch was up to the usual high standard of the Trevor although unfortunately the first bottle of wine wasn’t. This bottle of Merlot tasted somewhat like camel piss so Lafayette took advice from Mine Host, Fat Pete, and obtained a much better bottle of Corbieres which cleared the palate and helped the cheese course go down. Bronco was meantime making up for lost time in the huge T bone steak department and B.T. was discussing black nail polish with the barmaid. Sandyballs decided that the shirt he was wearing that day qualified him to join The Cords, a renegade group of Frumpies who regularly met round at Matt’s to discuss the finer points of Catholic dogma. Lafayette solemnly reminded him that not only was he a lapsee but if he persisted with this bad idea he might well become a victim of Lafayette’s Lewes Bonfire Society purges.
And so we bid a tearful farewell to Fat Peter, he’d really been a friendly landlord in all the years we’d been going to the Trevor. Then we got on a train and tried to avoid paying for our tickets back to Lewes -in vain again. Sandyballs asked B.T. how many kilobites from Toulouse his camera was living and then realised he was thinking in at least two parallel universes and mercifully shut up.
So ended the Really, Really Steep Ramble, and may the Brothers Thomas be cursed for inflicting that hill on us. Just because they sprint over the Downs everyday for their aperitifs doesn’t mean we all have to. Anyway, cheers be to Fat Pete and may he thrive forever.
Lafayette.
Ramble No. 233
Those present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Matt, Lafayette, B.T.
The Hamish Findlay Ramble.
Wednesday 15th April 2009.
The reason for this title will be seen towards the end of the write-up. Anyway, Froggy picked us up at Seaford station and we all went off to Matt’s for pre-ramble refreshment. Seated in his posh, well kept garden we all idly mused about why his bird table had nasty, wicked spikes around it - presumably to prevent any birds from gathering there to feed!! Another Nerds’ mystery indeed. Meanwhile B.T. played at being a paparazzo and danced around the table taking photos for posterity ( just like the last 20 years of photos were, ha, ha ). Lafayette’s notes record that Froggy had decided to come out that year and was asking Matt advice about golf (Maybe the notes had got a little confused here), however Matt replied by giving Froggy his tip of the week ie. how to use a safety pin to repair a bust trouser zip. (Very confused notes!).
Apparently Sally had told Froggy that the Nerds mustn’t see their front garden because it was unfinished (Were we going to hold a fete here or something?)and then Matt walzed out into the garden wearing a teeshirt featuring Elton John and Keith Alan, and said he was going to leave all his money to The Catholic Boys Non Buggering Society. (Why??)
So, after all this surrealism Sandyballs decided that it was time to ramble and dragged us out through twitterns and all around bourgeois Seaford towards The Golden Galleon to get lunch. Along the way Matt had a stroke of luck spotting a £20 note on the ground which Lafayette pointed out to him . Then began a long agonising period of Catholic guilt of what to do with this windfall. Lafayette suggested that he spend it on drink but Matt wanted to change the world and donate it to all the abused in Ireland. Lafayette said they’d all been abused because of drink anyway and he might as well make a few Nerds happy without all this guilt bollocks. (You can guess that Lafayette had been brought up as a Protestant) so Matt was finally persuaded to spend it in the pub after deciding to make a small contribution to Our Lady of Abstinence in the next Catholic church he came across. (In the event Froggy claimed some two weeks later that he had lost £20, but we all thought this was a bit Jesuitical and turned down his appeal).
On, on to the Golden Galleon where Bronco was supposed to meet us but wasn’t there and Froggy couldn’t raise him by phone. Maybe he’d forgotten it was Nerds’ ramble day (grounds for excommunication) or maybe he’d got thrown off his horse again -whatever, he just failed to turn up. So to console ourselves we settled down and tried to pack ourselves full of calories. (Lafayette has to put his hands up at this point - confused notes - and say that it was actually Froggy’s ramble that day and we were supposed to go as far as the Plough and Harrow in Jevington. However due to all the Catholic Guilt Time Wasting earlier on it was decided to stay at the Golden Galleon).
It was nice and sunny sitting outside the pub even though there was a ferocious wind blowing up from the sea. The meal was served by cute girlies who titillated our hormones and Froggy got so horny he waved his nipples in the air (at Matt’s instigation) and treated us to a sight of his dorsal lump - some sort of mating ritual, apparently. Sandyballs mentioned he was going to put his future (putative) grandson down for entry to the Nerds as there was such a long waiting list to get in (we need some new blood, everybody else is either dead, dying or gone crook).
Then a pleasant walk back along the cliffs where we got caught having a piss in the bushes by real ramblers and where there weren’t any more suspicious £20 notes to pick up. (No more miracles; Lafayette blamed The Catholics and vowed to start his own Bonfire Society in Lewes).
Descending from the cliffs to the beach someone mentioned that Philby had once owned some crappy old beach hut in the environs which was now putrefactious and full of empty red wine bottles. So in the hope of finding it and possibly of discovering an overlooked full bottle we wandered along the front and came across a dazzlingly well looked after beach hut in the possession of none other than one time drunken shagger, Hamish Findlay! How nice it was to see him and didn’t he look well! Well I suppose you would for one who had managed to retire from a non job at Newhaven at the tender age of about 40. (just jealous, that’s all).
Hamish looked the picture of health despite actually not being all that well, and had a tan which made him look as if he had just got back from Barbados. He denied this, of course, and reckoned it was just the effect of lounging around outside his beach hut, drinking tea and luring ladies inside for his entertainment. He treated all the Nerds to tea and biscuits and we all caught up on a lot of history together. Sadly, a lot of women kept coming up looking impatiently at the Nerds so we decided to leave Hamish to his pleasures and clear off. Nice to see him again, though.
And so the ramble fizzled out somewhere outside the Wellington at Seaford. It had been a pleasant, sunny day and we had seen an old friend. Lafayette now has to get his second set of notes in order to record The Nasty Steep, Steep Ramble which took place the following month in the environs of Lewes.
Lafayette.
Ramble No. 234
Those present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Lafayette, B.T, Bronco, Julian, Andy and Rupert Thomas and Tony (who?)
The Really, Really Steep Ramble.
Tuesday 12th May 2009.
Sandyballs in charge again this month. It was the occasion of the last week of employment of Fat Peter, landlord of the Trevor Arms at Firle, and the Nerds (and others) were going to show their appreciation of his past services by attempting to drink his pub dry before the next landlord could take up residency.
Sandyballs had engaged the services of two native sherpas - Jules (Chinky) Thomas and Andy (Rimbaud ) Thomas, both of whom were indefatigable patrons of the Trevor. They had brought along Rupert (Mounty) Thomas - yet another brother, someone called Tony who was along for the ride.
The ramble began inauspiciously by the Thomas Bros leading the Nerds out of Lewes and up, up that steep hill that goes up to the golf course. The Nerds had had experience of this before when Bronco had decided that his future Nerd’s career was to be spent on even surfaces or else in the warmth and relative safety of any bar in a pub the Nerds happened to be visiting. Briefly then, the hill was steep. But worse, much worse was to come.
After getting up to the golf course the Nerds stopped to pant and recount. Nobody had died yet. Lafayette strode off with Mounty Thomas who was telling him about the book he had written about er… mounties. Lafayette was impressed, it wasn’t often he met two famous authors in a week. This Thomas brother despite being somewhat rotund, was obviously very fit (cycling, you see) and led Lafayette panting and gasping far ahead of the main band.
Lafayette must then have had a little sleep because when he awoke he was at the bottom of The Hill of Despair which Chinky Thomas told him gleefully was awfully steep. And, God , he wasn’t wrong Everyone ground their way upwards and upwards and upwards. The bloody hill went on forever with no let up . Lafayette wished he’d done a bit more cycling to keep fit but it was too late now. On, on he went until turning round to throw up on a sheep turd he spied a solitary figure way, way at the back of the group in worse difficulties than himself. It was poor B.T. who everyone had forgotten about so busy had they been gassing to each other (or puking like Lafayette). B.T. was obviously suffering the effects of his frequent trips to France and his excursions into French cuisine which had made him into a bit of a porky worky.
Slowly he managed to make his way up the hill until he and Lafayette lay panting together and cursing the Brothers Thomas who were inflicting this torture on them both.But eventually they recovered and followed the others down the pleasant green slope into Firle village where the Trevor Arms lay.
And there was Fat Peter, as rotund as ever and in his usual welcoming mood. He had clearly seen what a state B.T. and Lafayette were in so he gave everyone a free drink which endeared us to him even more. After a few more drinks and a suitable period of recovery, B.T. came up with the money spinning idea of producing a Nerds nude calendar ( what an original idea!) . Lafayette said he didn’t mind as long as Morgane was the photographer and took off her clothes too, but B.T.was unfortunately having none of that. Froggy said he quite liked the idea of someone making him famous by photographing his lump, and it might even enable him to get a contract with Heat Magazine. B.T didn’t seem too keen on this idea either. But just then Bronco arrived.
Now these days Bronco doesn’t walk a lot - something to do with his corns or something, but he can smell when a drink is going a mile off. Of course he is very well known by everybody in the Trevor and was suitably greeted. Sandyballs had suddenly spotted a couple of old friends who had coincidentally arrived at the same time for lunch. Twas Deaf Dog Mike and his wife, La Diva Daphne who had travelled from Eastbourne after paying homage at the grave of The Deaf Dog (now deceased).
Lunch was up to the usual high standard of the Trevor although unfortunately the first bottle of wine wasn’t. This bottle of Merlot tasted somewhat like camel piss so Lafayette took advice from Mine Host, Fat Pete, and obtained a much better bottle of Corbieres which cleared the palate and helped the cheese course go down. Bronco was meantime making up for lost time in the huge T bone steak department and B.T. was discussing black nail polish with the barmaid. Sandyballs decided that the shirt he was wearing that day qualified him to join The Cords, a renegade group of Frumpies who regularly met round at Matt’s to discuss the finer points of Catholic dogma. Lafayette solemnly reminded him that not only was he a lapsee but if he persisted with this bad idea he might well become a victim of Lafayette’s Lewes Bonfire Society purges.
And so we bid a tearful farewell to Fat Peter, he’d really been a friendly landlord in all the years we’d been going to the Trevor. Then we got on a train and tried to avoid paying for our tickets back to Lewes -in vain again. Sandyballs asked B.T. how many kilobites from Toulouse his camera was living and then realised he was thinking in at least two parallel universes and mercifully shut up.
So ended the Really, Really Steep Ramble, and may the Brothers Thomas be cursed for inflicting that hill on us. Just because they sprint over the Downs everyday for their aperitifs doesn’t mean we all have to. Anyway, cheers be to Fat Pete and may he thrive forever.
Lafayette.
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