January 2011 Ramble - Joining Instructions

Dear NERDS,

The next ramble will take place on Wednesday 5th January, meeting at 10 30 hrs approx chez Lafayette.

Happy Christmas to you all

Lafayette.

The 2010 Christmas Ramble

THE NERDS Ramble no. 252 7/12/10.


Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, B.T, El Paco, The Captain, Matt , Mystery Guest.

Christmas Ramble 2010 - Unseen Lewes.

This is traditionally the time of year when NERDS come out of their hidey-holes, shake their blurry heads and gather together to celebrate what they do best - like eating, drinking, slagging each other off, quarrelling, and giving thanks to the
Baby Jesus for all the good weather he blessed the year’s rambles with. Oh, and to ponder who The Mystery Guest might be and whether she (or even he) is likely to be wearing suspenders under that sexy, revealing frock.


There was a good turnout this year with everyone managing to get up in time and get on the same train. 3 from Seaford, 3 from Newhaven all got to Lewes where they had been summoned by Grand Imperial Wizard, Sandyballs, currently the longest serving crossing officer at Newhaven Borderbollocks. The weather was brightish and cold but that day’s route had already been reconnaissanced by S.B. and Lafayette, the famous Pirate Spotter and other Crossing Officer to whom Bad Things Often Happened at Sea (albeit a long time ago).

The Route led past the station and through Lewes Priory grounds where The Captain had once received an expensive education (His father had wanted him to become a monk but the lure of the sea had overcome such lowly ambitions). The Priory Gardens had been gentrified and were now open to the public. The NERDS were treated to nuns reading the notices which themselves revealed how the monks went to the lavvy together in a chummily social way while discussing the higher tenets of Jansenist religion. Matt, Our Eminence Grise, reckoned they were all seeking ways to evade the predestined Fires of Hell which beckoned to those who practised chastity and other unnatural sexual practices. Lafayette reckoned they were just having a good crap and bitching about each other (plus ca change……….).

It was at this point that Lafayette found a frozen pair of teddy bear ear muffs lying on the snowy ground, and appropriated them to wear as his Christmas head gear. On return chez lui his younger daughter had kicked up a stink at this larceny, claiming that he had probably infringed the human rights of some poor little girl who was now squawking her head off at her mother insisting she replace the muffs with a pony to compensate. Lafayette didn’t care; he at least had warm ears and was too old for a pony. (Maybe a BMW like the Captain’s)

Next the route wound through the Grange Gardens, scene of a number of B. T.’s famous marriages (triumph of hope over experience again) and a pleasant spot nonetheless, and on to Lewes cemetery where ghosts floated behind mouldy gravestones and seagulls were busy tearing the flesh off newly interred corpses.
On, on the NERDS hurried in the desperate search for drink to quell these frightening visions until they ended up at a famous Lewes pub, The Brewer’s Droop which fortunately was owned by a relative of Sandyballs, and had the unique quality of opening at 10. 00hrs in the morning to accommodate the requirements of thirsty NERDS.

Here the bourgeois amongst us (Captain, El Paco) pampered themselves with café cognacs and the hoi poloi (everyone else) whacked into the Harveys. Sandyballs and Froggy had been specially selected by Borderbollocks to go over the Channel to give a presentation to Frenchbollocks about how to keep out filthy foreigners. Those who were Old Hands scoffed at this saying the solution was easy; anyone who had a green passport was a foreigner and deserved to be knocked off. Those from North Africa were questioned closely by Matt with his system of flip card questions eg.“Where do you shop for that lovely leather jacket?” and “Have you got a steady boy friend? “and were then handed over to Lafayette whose French was marginally better, to be refused entry properly according to The Law.

A second drink in The Brewers seemed appropriate so topics discussed were Froggy’s retirement scheme(again) and why it should be a good idea to have the next Christmas special at The Bulldog Pub in Brighton (see last month’s write-up to see the compelling reasons why not!). And so we finally departed the cosy Brewers atmosphere to walk down the sun-laden streets of Lewes to The Snowdrop where the Christmas Extravaganza was to be held.

Actually, now Lafayette pondered it, there seemed to be no particular compelling reasons for shunning the Bulldog next year. I mean, The Snowdrop was clearly twinned with The Bulldog and in fact was even more outrageously camp being run as it was by a couple of punk strangey types who fortunately had a good cook on the premises. We all sat down on the hard benches at the hard tables. Fortunately, the table decorations were superb - crackers wine glasses, tablecloth- and we then began to guess the identity of The Mystery Guest. Froggy reckoned it was Philby so began ordering lots of red wine. Matt reckoned it was Troy so began making his pitch for having refused the most Algerians in the year. Lafayette reckoned it was Shirley because she liked a drink and sometimes wore a frock; and B.T. reckoned it was Angelina Jolie because he was a fantasist and was due for a new wife.

In the end we heard the sound of hooves clattering to a halt outside and the neighing of a fiery steed . “Good God “ exclaimed Lafayette, “It’s The Lone Ranger!” but it was only Bronco who came in and beamed at everybody in a sort of Bronco-like way.
He was very welcome; we hadn’t seen him for ages and we had been wondering suspiciously if he had succumbed to the lure of a “package” and had ridden off into the sunset. But no, it was the same old Bronco with his bumbling gait and his lascivious jokes.

The lunch was absolutely magnificent including lots of mulled wine, venison, Christmas pud, mincey pies and tons of wine and brandy. The Punkyfellahs had really done us proud; Long live The Snowdrop! But of course, fired up with alcohol the quarrelling began…. Sandyballs made some comment about B.T. living in the lap of luxury in the South of France; and B.T. replied tartly that at least he didn’t live North of the Ouse in a sink estate like Sandyballs.(So there!) Matt suggested joining up for an evening with our favourite sister organisation, the cords, but this was stamped on because all they talked about was work and their pensions and who Steve and Tina were swinging with this week (allegedly according to Wikileak). Froggy said he had plans to go daughter swapping with some friends of his but the rest of us strongly suspected his true motives. Paco was still in love with Susan Boyle because his skeleton wasn’t keeping him warm in bed any more; and Matt was in love with Liberace because of the way he tickled everybody’s ivories. La Grande Querelle came with the parting up of the bill, of course, since everybody reckoned they’d been charged for drinking alcohol and none of them had (yeah….).

Anyway somehow we settled up and set off back to our respective homes; B.T. to drink all Lafayette’s calva and Paco back to snuggle up to his skeleton. The food had been excellent and it had been nice to see Bronco again. Thanks be to Sandyballs for his interesting routing and to Froggy for the photos which showed us all getting older.
We never did see Troy or Philby - guess they just couldn’t make it (Sigh)


Happy Christmas, you NERDS.


Lafayette.

The NERDS Christmas 2010 Ramble

The December, Christmas Ramble 2010

The chosen hostelry for this event is the Snowdrop Inn. As we are visiting the abode on the 7th December this year we hope that there is no likelihood of a repeat occurrence of the event on the 27th December 1836.

That was when the greatest avalanche in Great Britain occurred.

Here are the Joining Instructions from Sandyballs:-

Don't forget that this event is on TUESDAY 7/12. The usual 09.58 from Seaford Central and I will meet you all at Lewes for a bit of a mystery tour. Matt has a secret assignation in the morning so wil not be walking with us but will meet us at the Snowdrop.

Let us hope the elements are kind to us. The Mystery Guest has purchased a slinky new frock for the occasion!

SandyB.

November's Ramble 2010

NERDS’ RAMBLE No. 252 - 17/11/10.

Those Present - Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Matt, El Paco, Dio.

The Urban Ramble.


The previous week Mr and Mrs Sandyballs had gone shopping in Brighton for a wedding dress for Princess Rebecca who was due soon to marry The Earl of Warwick and had fallen by chance on an upmarket restaurant which Sandyballs was eager to try out on the NERDS. The particular day of the ramble it was cold and shitty; dull and blustery; just the day for an urban ramble where nobody would get blown about on high hilltops but might instead find a few cosy pubs to hibernate in. The NERDS were joined by a Mystery(ish) Guest, a foreigner who Lafayette had bribed some I.O. to let into the country so that he could marry his No. 1 daughter. This was the leather clad Yank, Dio, a strong but silent type who Matt immediately bonded with because of his fancy coat.

Off we all went to Brighton where Sandyballs, holding a few bits of paper tried to convince us that this was a proper ramble with cows and sheep and landscapes and stuff. Not a chance! This was just Brighton on a crap day. Still, Dio thought it was exciting; you know what Americans are like about tourism. No sooner had we got within spitting distance of The Royal Pavilion than he whipped out a camera and was taking pictures and asking questions about Mad King George.We tried to tell him that this particular Scots bloke had been ousted in the last election and was busy writing his memoirs but Dio would have none of it; he was convinced that the Prince Regent had built himself a house in Brighton to get away from his domineering father - and who were we to disillusion him?

As a result of all this culture the NERDS were getting thirsty but each pub they tried refused to open. “What was going on?” they thought. Had Brighton heard the NERDS were on the rampage or something. Had everyone’s daughter been locked up? We were even willing to pay for our drinks. Eventually, after we had been refused entry to four different pubs Sandyballs consulted his guide and led us into an amenable hostelry called The Bulldog.

Nice place, we thought. At least it sells Harvey’s. Matt sat himself comfortably beneath one of those quirky slide shows you see at people’s birthdays and retirements, you know , the ones where people with long hair and sideburns hug their slim wives, or where everyone sits around at a barbecue with a raised glass, ie. the way we once were when we were young and carefree. Ha, ha; this slide show showed handsome and nakedish young men draped on towels and covered in slimy soap (at least, I think it was) or else actually kissing each other. My god, hadn’t these people heard of girls!
But there you go, at least the beer was good and everyone inside was very friendly.

Tiring of all this decadence Lafayette dragged everyone out of the drinking hole and marched them round to his favourite macho gun shop. “Ah, Mr Lafayette,” the owner exclaimed. “ you have come to buy yet another Kalashnikov, how many is that now , four or five? And you have brought your little companions, are we to fix them up too with nasty weapons so that you can make your mark back in Pakistan again?” Lafayette mumbled something about just popping in to get a tin of pellets and tried to saunter coolly out of the shop before more hideous details of his personal life were revealed . Dio was advised to put down the Thompson sub machine gun he wanted to try out round the back; such vulgar displays of enthusiasm aren’t British, he was told.

Now to The Cricketers pub, a haunt of Brighton players and thespians, with plushy covered seats and discreet lighting. You can’t say that Brighton doesn’t encourage illicit sexual relations everywhere. The NERDS all sat bolt upright not daring to touch knees - you never know who might be watching. Matt told us a fascinating tale of how he had nearly bled to death that morning trying to rescue a twenty pence piece that had fallen under his bed (wow!) and Froggy claimed The Office would miss him when he was gone because he alone tidied up after everyone else, darned their socks and entertained them with morose guitar music. Matt claimed that he used to do Fridge Watch all by himself just to make sure there was always enough food to feed the seagulls, and Paco chimed in, with his bid to be Office Treasure by virtue of putting all the office lottery money on red in the casino in Dieppe and managing the tea club so that every Algerian who was refused got a glass of champagne before being chucked back on board the boat.

Finally Sandyballs got everyone to follow him to his new-found restaurant. This was Gekko’s which allowed O.A.Ps to stuff as much as they could for £3.99, although you were only allowed two hours to do it in. Bitterly disappointed as he was not to get the Old Gits’ reduction, Froggy thought the concept was manna from heaven. Well, not quite, but not far off . There was about twenty five yards worth of sizzly, succulent buffets encompassing Chinese, Indian, Mexican. American, Italian foods. And so the NERDS dived in. After a thirteen course meal Froggy thought he’d go for his fifth attempt at the soup but found by this time he couldn’t get up. Matt was busy shovelling stuff into his pockets for later while Dio massacred a beef burger. We all agreed that Sandyballs had made a good find here and it became one of the few places to get a NERDS Approved sticker (when we get round to having them printed).

On, on for a Nostalgia trip down to The Great Eastern to see if the ghost of He Who Drank Too Much Red Wine might still be sitting up a corner listening to shite country music and drinking wine - but surprisingly enough he wasn’t. Apparently everyone at some time had been dragged down here by Philby to be shown “this marvellous, bohemian pub full of amazing atmosphere,” Lafayette thought it was fairly ordinary, really although the books were good and Froggy resumed reading the one he’d had to put down last time. We asked Dio, as a newcomer, his opinion of it , and he opined again that “It was very British” Yeaah, well…

Bascally that was it and we all cleared off home. It had been an interesting ramble, especially the bit in the non girly Bulldog pub, and Sandyballs is to be congratulated on his choice of lunch venue. We hope Dio didn’t find it all too strange and that he stays long enough to assimilate “British” social mores.
Love from Lafayette.

November 2010 Joining Instructions

This month's event will take place in the fair city of Brighton - an urban ramble. This is partly so we can lunch at Gecko's - an all-in buffet experience which myself and Mrs Sandyballs sampled the other day. Exceptional value at just £3.99 for the over-60s! Yes, I know that Froggy doesn't qualify but we can probably smuggle him in with us at the same price. If not he can pay the full rate of £6.99 - so what, he has millions of £s in the bank!

Instead of getting the bus - which would further annoy F -F-F - I suggest we take the train as it is easier to co-ordinate a railway timetable than a bus one. So, the 09.58 from Seaford picking up at Newhaven Town and Lewes.

Plenty of pubs in town to keep us from dehydrating! One word of warning - this is an inner-city ramble so that means PAVEMENTS. So, NO MOANING about lack of footpaths, trees and grass, etc.!!

Sandy

The October Ramble

THE NERDS’ Ramble No. 251

Wednesday 27th Oct. 2010.

Those Present - Lafayette, Froggy, Sandyballs, Matt, The Captain, (El Paco).

The Skeleton Ramble.


Matt was playing host that day so met the faithful at Seaford Station wearing his brown corduroy driving cap. Lafayette fancied one of these but thought it looked a bit gay unless you could persuade everyone it was actually a Breton fisherman’s hat. Fat chance of that ! he’d have to wear his ferret poacher’s flat cap instead then everyone would know he came from North of Watford and kept ferrets in his coat pocket (Ouch!!)

So to Matt’s for pre - ramble hospitality. Well! The lavishisity of it all ! There were cut glass tumblers for the Jamesons , lots of choccy bics, even coffee was laid on by Matt’s young negro servant who now followed him every where and called him “Master” (an old NERDS’ tradition dating from the Quazi days of “He Who Drank Too Much Red Wine“). We were ushered into the front room where we could do least harm and started interrogating El Paco as to why he was dipping out of rambling with the rest of us.

Now, Dear Readers, you are going to find this very hard to believe; in fact by general consensus this was to be the worst excuse ever so far heard for getting out of a ramble: Apparently El Paco was having a skeleton delivered that afternoon and had to be in to receive it! What the fuck was going on we all thought ; had El Paco become Head of the Seaford Mafia and was carrying out a routine sweep-up operation; or else had he conceived a somewhat dubious passion for He who Drank Too Much Red Wine and felt he was unable to live without him? No, nothing as exotic as these (Thank God); Simply that his daughter, the lovely Lara, had become a medical student and needed her practice skeleton sent home for her to…er practise on.

Away from all the luxury of chez Matt the NERDS went outside, found a bus stop and started the ride to Beachy Head(ish). Froggy , of course had to pay a small fortune to get there because of his delicate age while the rest of us sat around for free in Old Git mode. Finally we got somewhere near Eastbourne where it was high and windy and where we could descend into the town over Downish sort of grassy paths.

Somebody obviously knew the way as we weaved through quite nice streets in The Meads area though Matt (who was that day’s route master) led from the back. He did however know where a good place for lunch was since we ended up in The Ship, a very posh place with actual carpets on the floor and sexy barmaids for our delectation. The NERDS finding it hard to settle, moved tables about three times to get the most advantageous view of the barmaids and wondered about keeping a couple of seats free since Paco had threatened to join us for lunch and was going to bring his skeleton as a (sort of ) Mystery Guest. Lunch was excellent and quite reasonably priced too.

Just as we were reluctantly leaving The Ship and bracing ourselves to go out into the nasty blowy autumnal weather, we were hailed by a familiar voice. It was El Paco who was late (as usual ) and said it was because his skeleton had stood him up and hadn’t wanted to come with him for lunch. However, he had travelled over in his car and when asked for a lift back made no bones about agreeing (ha,ha).

Matt who knew this part of Eastbourne quite well then directed everyone down the road to another pub called The Pilot. This was a more chummy place with an ugly barman and no carpet on the floor but friendly nonetheless. Since Paco had already missed lunch at The Ship he settled here to devour a huge steak. Meanwhile Matt was spreading a rumour that the Chords were going into liquidation and were going to make all their funds over to the NERDS since we were a registered charity (for Old Git Drinkers). Nobody believed him especially since Goldenballs was a chords founder member and was unlikely to part with a penny.

After a while here we all squeezed into Paco’s car and headed back to Seaford where we ended up in The Plough catching up with Andy Cap Julian Thomas. He was fleeing both his brothers and the dreaded Rocket Radio in Lewes and preparing to spend the winter in Hong Kong and Manila where it was more likely to be warm and sunny than over here. Not a bad idea, we thought, but instead we should have to stay here and take part in the “Mike Clarke Ramble “ which sadly will not be written about since it’s not NERDS’ official.

So, thanks to Matt for route mastering and enabling us to see how the other half live, and thanks to El Paco for the lift and we were all disappointed not to have met his
new friend. Maybe next time, although Matt’s worried he will turn up with a big scythe over his shoulder.

Never mind , it will soon be the festive season so the NERDS can all spend their time going into pubs and drinking stuff - for a change.

Bye bye.


Lafayette.

November Ramble

Here we are just ten days from the November ramble but still awaiting joining instructions. Furthermore, we are still awaiting for the October "write-up" from Lafayette, but that is excusable as he has a whole host of family arrangements to make. If we do not hear from Sandyballs soon I might have to organise an interim publication!

The next ramble is on Wednesday the 17th.

NERDS’ 250TH RAMBLE 29TH SEPT TO 1ST OCT. 2010

Yet Another Dieppe Raid

Those who went - Sandy balls, Lafayette, Froggy, B.T. Muscles Matt.

The First Dieppe Raid took place in 1989 and was actually Ramble no. 10 (you’ve all read the shit that Lafayette wrote then and which B.T. purloined from his records to bring along). Now those who had gone originally were all 21 years older (except Philby who couldn’t come with us for several pressing reasons). So what had happened to them in the meantime?

Well, Matt was now 70 and had had spectacular amounts of bits cut from the temple that is his body; B.T. now on his 3rd wife had moved lock , stock and barrel (literally in some respects) to France and was busy enjoying the fat of the land; Froggy was still waiting to be invited to perform guitar solos before a screaming mob of fans at Shay Stadium but had become a famous author (although not as famous as Lafayette); Sandyballs had won the Tour de France twice but was now serving a ban for drinking too much Harvey’s before his last race; and Lafayette, well apart from rising through the ranks to become Chief Inspector and taking over the entire running of The Immigration Service had had a biblical flash of truth, realized what a load of rubbish the Organisation and his selfish ambition had been and had delegated the safety of the country to a bunch of inferior and totally incompetent subordinates. A lot of water under a lot of bridges, I’m sure you’ll all agree.

And so the NERDS found themselves once again in the bar on a cross channel ferry
( Oh yes, I forgot to mention some small accident that Lafayette had had on board a similar boat about 1990 but a veil will be drawn over this due to lack of interest),
Anyway the NERDS had just finished Sandyballs’ bottle of Spanish brandy and were wondering what else to drink when Froggy started to relate the squeamish history of his sebaceous cyst which made everyone want to throw up the magnificent cooked breakfast they had enjoyed in the terminal. Nothing for it but to visit the Duty Free shop and invest in a litre of cheap(ish) Jameson’s to settle our stomachs and recover entirely.

But who was this coming over to see us? A fellow passenger from the past, a former employee of B.T. in the glory days when the ship’s cinema had actually been a going concern. It was she of the blonde hair and pouting lips, someone who had been on the boat with us for the first Dieppe Raid and who looked not a day older than she had that day - it was Brigitte, most famous of the Boat Girlies who had used to succour and comfort us when we needed female company the most. Hurrah! Brigitte was now living in France with her bloke, Roger, and running a knick-knack shop in Dieppe.

Brigitte was pleased to see us ( I think ) and revealed that she and other Boat Girly, Sally, had used to call Froggy “Cutey Phil” because he had had such a gorgeous pustulating sebacious cyst on his back which had used to excite them both in a naughty way when they had been bored with doing all that pole dancing and waiting on hand and foot. Well, we always wondered why nobody had ever responded to Philby’s attempt at seduction by reading crap poetry - you’ve just got to be an ugly hunchback to make women show an interest.

Anyway “Cutie Phil” tried to impress Brigitte with an account of how he had given up drinking beer because it was bad for his hump and how he had instead turned to drinking lager because of all the different orgasms (sic)it had in it. Brigitte showed a distinct interest in this new and fascinating form of medicament and vowed to try it out for herself. B.T. said he was going to get a still and manufacture eau de vie with added chemical orgasms ( by now the bottle of Jameson’s was kicking in and obviously had a lot to answer for!)

The NERDS managed to get off the boat somehow with promises to meet up later with Brigitte for an orgasm or two in a French bar. Then it was round to the Hotel Aguado to check in. After this it was straight to the Café de la Paix round the corner to test out the local pression (beer). Froggy at this point found himself in dire need of a lie-down so crashed out to leave the first day’s walking to his fellow NERDS.

The Church of the Presque Naufrage Types is always good for a mini ramble mainly because it’s not far away (ie just on top of the cliff at Dieppe) and also because the way there is steep and windy (no, not winddy, windy). Here the God fearing French light candles for their loved ones who got torpedoed by the nasty Bosch or who got sucked down to the depths by vile sea monsters. Lafayette looked in vain for any candles lit to commemorate his own escape from a sticky death many years ago but his own legend had apparently died out. It seems these days you’ve got to be a dead NERD to be famous.

B.T. nearly qualified for legend status by falling arse over tit by some steps and nearly ruining his camera and his fair features. Must have been the Jameson’s again. So back to the Aguado for an official snooze and to make sure that Froggy hadn’t escaped.
(He hadn’t). The view from our rooms was magnificent, straight over the pelouse towards the sea - what more could the NERDS want? Lafayette knew, he wanted calvados so mounted a trip to Shoppi to get more supplies. Foolish like he left his bag of bottles openly in his room where …. But that’s a story for later.

That evening, in honour of Philby, dinner was taken at Le Grand Duquesne, probably the most expensive restaurant in Dieppe and where Philby was convinced he was a personal friend of the patron. (Here and every where else). It must be said that the place lived up to its culinary reputation. Lafayette thinks he had moules marinieres but wasn’t sure. However if he did they were magnificent. He remembers that the steak was extremely tasty and that pichet after pichet of red wine kept coming, (apart from B.T. who insisted on drinking nancyfied rose wine because he now lived in the South of France). I expect he’ll be painting pictures of naked women next!

Back to the Aguado where Lafayette’s calvados was broken into without his permission. Lafayette was most miffed at this; the calva wasn’t for him, he protested, it was a present for the Chilean miners to congratulate them on escaping from the bowels of the earth and not having a memorial plaque put up to them in the Presque Naufrage Church. A token of sympathy to show solidarity with other poor people who would probably miss out on legend status as well as Lafayette. Unfortunately the rest of the NERDS just thought Lafayette wanted to keep all his calva to himself (as if…)

Day Two

Lafayette woke up feeling like shite, and what is more his watch had broken - just as well it was only a cheap one given to him by the crew of The Chartres instead of a plaque in the church. What was he to do? Lafayette being a control freak had always had a very precise sense of time and now he would have to rely on Sandyballs. The latter was lying there ( in the next bed, he hastened to add) snoring his head off. Never mind, down to breakfast where Matt insisted on sitting at his own table; he was obviously disgusted at the drunken shenanigans exhibited by the rest of the NERDS the night before, poor thing! B.T read out selected bits of the write-up of Dieppe Raid One and we all realised that nothing much had really changed since 1989 except we were all now a bit older, and obviously, much more responsible.

Time for a walk. The NERDS walked along the front of the Aguado in sight of the beach, past the Casino where Hamish MacFindlay and El Paco had conspired to break the bank and failed (just practising on the fruit machines on The Versailles isn’t really the best way to defraud a professional casino), up to the Select Hotel which was sadly no more now than some corporate insurance building, and up the hill. Many years ago Lafayette had discovered a short cut out of Dieppe on to the road to Pourville which consisted of going up a very steep bit that led up to a stadium. He now dragged the NERDS up this mega gradient to the annoyance of CuteyFrog who winged on about chest pains, sore feet, not being valued enough etc. etc.

At the top we paused for a little rest then descended into Pourville towards this famous village where the local industry was just…..oysters. It was obvious that nobody here ate anything but oysters. There were places selling oyster sandwiches, bars selling oyster juice, restaurants selling oyster omelettes and oysters and chips.
Because oysters have a well known effect of making people dead randy the upshot of this was that all the male population were in bed soundly sleeping off the previous night’s sexual excesses while the place was being run by a load of bleary eyed women who could hardly put one foot in front of another.

Pourville was obviously a victim of its own amazing commercial success. The NERDS settled into a café where the waitress, after much searching, found a few beers amongst all the oyster aperitifs which the NERDS thought it wise to ignore.
Lafayette got hungry and nipped up the road to the nearest oyster bar for an oyster sandwich while CuteyFrog entertained everyone with his Pammy Gelly song -
Something to do with green fingers and Lithuanian compost (look, don’t ask me; that’s what the notes say). A bit of fun was had after lunch by chasing after ‘sales mouettes’ along the sea front but since the local women were all starting to hitch up their skirts and advance in a predatory way, the NERDS thought they ought to shift before their honour was impugned. (the NERDS’ honour, that is).

Out of Pourville we went and up, up, up another steep short cut until we came to the calm oasis of very posh houses with huge front gates and deer parks for front gardens which is where the Dieppe bourgeoisie barricaded themselves away from the crappy French peasants working in the oyster industry. Lafayette thought there might be a few rich widows knocking about round here and mentally stored up the location for future reference. Meanwhile a nasty dog came out of a gothic witch’s house which Lafayette scared off by hurling the appropriate mediaeval, French curse at it and turning it into a quivering dormouse.

We came to an interesting path through some woods which we took just for the hell of it and then down a slope to a sort of bay in front of the sea. “Whoopee, the sea!” said the NERDS and began throwing stones into it (as you do). Anyone would have thought that nobody was used to the sea, hadn’t worked on top of the sea or indeed didn’t actually live by the sea like all the NERDS did. Matt got sick of admiring the sea and said he wanted to become NERDS’ Eminence Grise. There had been a Quasi who had fawned over Lafayette but was now defunct but the Eminence Grise would wield real power in a sort of secret,insinuating way. CuteyPhil was voted in as the new Quasi because he would be likely enough the receive the biggest lump sum of everyone when he retired and could put it towards the whip for the next Dieppe Raid.

And so back to Pooville (I wonder who called it that after a few drinks) where we had a drink or two at a bar run by a bloke this time who was gearing up for his own evening meal of you know what’s on toast and looking forward to yet another night of bacchanalian excess. Here we saw an advert for an itinerant zoo which was going to appear in Dieppe that evening. NB this was not under any circumstances something that might be termed a circus because that would contain animals and cruelty and stuff and would not be allowed by law. Someone suggested we sell CuteyPhil to the
“zoo”as an interesting biological specimen but he himself wasn’t keen and the Eminence Grise banned this decision on the grounds that we needed to lure Brigitte down to Dieppe that evening for a drink, and the offer to see The Hump again might just swing it.

Back at the Aguado Lafayette managed to phone Brigitte and after he had described in detail what oysters do for the female psyche got her to meet us for a drink or two. The NERDS took her to L’Ancrage, a restaurant on the front which looked OK and which turned out to be not bad at all. Brigitte spent the evening telling us tales of what we had all (allegedly) done on the boats twenty years ago ( did you know that Philby had proposed to her on every single crossing, or that B.T. was only now living in France to avoid being banged up by H.M. Revenue and Customs for not paying tax on the absolutely enormous amounts of money he had made out of the cinema?)

After Brigitte had left to drive home The NERDS repaired to the Cambridge bar where two incidents occurred. Firstly Lafayette erroneously thought that CuteyPhil was alleging that he was a better and more famous writer than Lafayette himself. How could this possibly be since Lafayette had box-files full of utter rubbish dating back to 1988 which thousands of fans were urging him to publish on the internet. Anyway Lafayette got miffed and wacked his friend over the head with his man-bag (Lafayette’s got previous for doing this to Philby in Belgium). Actually CuteyPhil had just requested another drink and had been rummaging in Lafayette’s bag for the whip.
Secondly, Sandyballs had had a visit from The Dump Fairy. She it was who visits you clandestinely while you’re having a dump, waves her wand over you and makes you forget everything that you did for several hours before your dump. Sandy balls was totally unable to remember anything at all which had happened to him that afternoon; he couldn’t remember going rambling, he couldn’t remember having dinner with Brigitte, he couldn’t even remember having had a dump so powerful was the Dump Fairy’s magic. Not that drink had been involved in these incidents…..Oh no, no no.

Day 3

There had been an explosion in the night outside Lafayette’s window. He was the only one to hear this since Sandyballs was still under the influence of enchantment, but the next day there were bits of shredded tiger wrapped round the traffic lights outside the window. Lafayette wondered whether this was CuteyPhil trying to get his revenge by disturbing his sleep but no, it was obviously some animal rights person protesting about the illegal use of animals at the “travelling zoo” which was being erected on the pelouse in front of the hotel. Lafayette went back to sleep muttering darkly.

Next matin he made his peace with C.P. who made him feel guilty because he had only wanted another drink and was in no way seeking to rubbish Lafayette’s great literary reputation. It turned out that the “French” lady who brought the breakfasts was in fact English and had been hiding her true nationality because she thought she might be deported by us lot. Apparently she had once picked up a threepenny bit in the street in Folkestone in 1952 when she had been a starving child and had not handed it in to The Proper Authorities. The NERDS assured her that her secret was safe as long as she kept serving up yummy breakfasts at the Aguado.

The morning was spent round The Sarajevo bar for elevenses where we read in the local newspaper about the burden put on the Dieppe Pompiers by the infestation of sales guepes after which we went into the Church of Saint Jacques in search of divine inspiration, only to find it was full of Old Trouts trying to save their miserable souls. Matt took all this soul saving seriously, but then again he was now NERDS’ Eminence Grise which was a promotion from merely being Religious Advisor, and which gave him more influence and power (and Catholic Guilt).

Finally to the Tout Va Bien for lunch which was really excellent and did a great omelette and chips (mushrooms not oysters) and lots of pichets of red wine.
That day the weather turned from being pleasant, sunny and autumny into miserable, drenching rain but the NERDS didn’t care; we had had our fun, done our rambles, flirted with Brigitte, had a few nice French meals and were ready to go home.

We hid in The Aguado until it was time to get the boat (This was a new one according to C.P. who claimed it was called The Cote D’Ivoire and was crewed by Africans - not that anybody saw any - we were all too knackered). However after dinner on the boat Lafayette reluctantly brought out his bottle of calvados again and was told by a member of the French crew that drinking this on the boat was forbidden…. Terrible consternation on the part of the NERDS until the crew member said he would only allow us to drink it out of proper calvados glasses which he kindly supplied. Shows that some of the French still maintain proper standards about the important things in life.

So another Dieppe Raid completed. It had been interesting to revisit some old haunts and to see an old friend. Even the weather had been OK for titting around in restaurants and bars, and even for doing a bit of walking. Thanks to all the NERDS for taking part and making it another thrilling experience and especially to S.B. and C.P. for getting the cheap tickets. Lafayette has got to do the same thing all over again the next week with the Darkside lot from Gatwick ; thank God they don’t drink as much or quarrel ……
Ha, ha.


Au revoir for now, mes amis.


Lafayette.




In Memoriam

Lafayette’s sister, Jane, died aged 57 on 8th September 2010. Jane had been a great friend of the NERDS for many years. She had hosted them at her house in Broseley on a number of occasions usually in September. The meals she had laid on were little short of amazing and her original ideas for themed dinners made for truly spectacular entertainment. It was she who made us all wear fancy dress, who gave us all yo-yos and who set off fireworks on her lawn to celebrate our being with her. She will be sadly missed, especially by Lafayette.

Ramble Dates for October, November and December 2010

First of all, thanks to Matt for volunteering to host and set the October ramble on 27.10.2010. A generous gesture particularly as a huge Irish 'fry' is promised for all with lashings of rashers! Can't wait! What time should be there, salivating, Matt?

Now we may have to rearrange the date of the December Xmas spectacular as on Wednesday 8th I am travelling to Poole for the important ISU BEC. Not just a chance to stay in a a swanky hotel and drink and eat at ISU member's expense - oh no! Shall we make it the Tuesday 7th, so that it shouldn't compromise BT's travel plans? Let me know any objections.

The date for the November ramble is apparently Wednesday 17th

Sandyballs

250th Ramble - Joining Instructions

Well, here they are, just eight days before we are due to depart.
**********

Only a week to go until the extravaganza of the 250th. Just to repeat, we go out at 10.00 AM on Wednesday 29th. Suggest we meet at the Transmanche Departure Terminal no later than 9AM. Don't forget your passport! Also, some wet weather gear and plenty of money/ credit cards.

There will not be T-shirts this time because of a general apathy/indecision about design, etc. Never mind, outrageous headgear may have to suffice. After all we want to stand out from the crowd in those Froggy/ BT photos!

See you on the day

Sandyballs

250th Ramble (Dieppe Raid "x") First Arrangements

As a footnote to Froggy's recent email concerning the 250th ramble(s) in Dieppe. Time is getting short and we really have to start booking things. I think we are only now waiting on Paco and Mike to let us know if they are going to join us. Without getting too 'heavy' about this I will have to put a deadline of this Friday 3rd. If I don't hear from you too guys by then I will have to assume that you will not be going. Froggy and I will then try to book ferry-tickets and Lafayette will do the hotel booking.

On another point, do you want commemorative T-shirts? I don't mind organising this but again I need some decisions. If you want one please let me know and what size you want. I think we could mostly be happiest with the Fatboy XL!!

Sandyballs

2010 August's Write-up

The NERDS’ Ramble No 249. 25. 8. 10.

Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Matt.

The Ramble When Nobody Actually Rambled.



To all those NERDS who didn’t take part this month, you had better start weeping with frustration right now since Froggy’s well laid plans to go all over East Sussex were laid low by the crappy weather.

Lafayette woke up that morning; outside his window everything was dull and drab
(Newhaven again). Apart from that it threatened heavy rain in the sky, a sinister fact which not even the brilliant (and apologetic ) smile of Carol-on-the-telly could mitigate. No question , it was going to be pissing down all day and any rambling would undoubtedly be put in serious jeopardy.

But to quote one of us, “Are we not NERDS?” (I’ve never actually understood this; what the fuck else are we likely to be? A group of avid hill walkers? not exactly,
A collection of keen explorers -hardly; a bunch of lazy-arsed piss-artists - never!)
Any way, we were NERDS so we should have to do something with the day.

I know, let’s all go round to Froggy’s and lay waste to his supplies of drink and choccy bics . We might even get in a bit of raping especially if he’s got one or two old cats lying about. The prospects for the day began to brighten (at least for Lafayette).

So we went through the complicated joining instructions. Sandyballs to meet Lafayette on the train to (perhaps) be met by Froggy at Seaford station, and was Noddy Derek, h/o the lovely Carys going to come as previously hinted? Nope, that day it was just four hardcore NERDS as detailed above. Lafayette was relieved; at
least there’d probably be enough cats to go round when it got down to the raping.

In the event, as soon as Lafayette put his nose round Froggy’s patio into the garden some sexy looking feline with a bell around its neck gave Lafayette a hard look and took off at a rate of knots. Never mind; at least Froggy, seeing Lafayette’s frustration put a bottle of Paddy’s down in front of him and invited him to partake.

Froggy’s place is very nice. It’s very clean and tidy with lots of exotic plants in his conservatory giving the impression of being a well kept jungle. And so what did we do? We went and sat outside in the spitting rain at a table covered with rotten apples and got bombarded by pissed-up wasps. The coffee was OK, the biscuits fine, even the Paddy’s was very pleasant but the milk was served in a very cracked jug!
This awful social faux-pas was swiftly brought to Froggy’s attention and he was told that this might spoil the whole day for the NERDS (especially combined with a lack of shaggable cats).

Since the weather was rapidly deteriorating, and since we had long since run out of Paddy’s, someone decided we ought to go somewhere else. Froggy gave the committee five different complicated alternatives, none of which made any sense in the present circumstances, and in the end we decided to get on the free bus at the end of Froggy’s road and get to the Golden Galleon before all the Old Trouts etc. etc.


Hooray! We got to the Golden Galleon relatively early so no problem getting a seat outside in the rain for the first pint. (Who’s daft idea was that?). Not wanting to get totally wet at this stage, (remember, we had a long ramble to do) we went back inside and got a good table. Matt began chatting up the fourteen year old barmaid, telling her that she could put herself in his hands because he was a doctor and she could trust him. Christ! Couldn’t she tell by just looking at him that he was an old…lecher?


So to avert a horrible crisis - like not getting served any beer- we dragged lechy Matt back over to the lunch table where he proceeded to tell us that his brother Michael, (Surely that should be brother, Father Michael, Ed.) a Catholic priest no less, had taught him a lot of funny sexual tricks when they had been growing up together in Ireland, and that that had made him the way he was today (no comment). The girly barmaid had clearly had a narrow escape; at least Lafayette only lusts after cats!

Lunch next. This was of reasonable quality for the Golden Galleon and we were glad we’d got in quick because of a sudden influx of Very,Very, Old Trouts on sticks and zimmer frames and in bath chairs who began to clog up the bar and stop all thirsty NERDS from getting a decent drink after such a long bus ride. Sandyballs started gargling on about ferries arrivaling ( a bit like Philby wanting to go clumping)
- I blame the Paddys, and Matt, now in full flow, gave us a graphic description of what it was like to go cycling with a defective prostate gland. Thanks, Matt; just what you need to hear when you’re eating your ice cream!

Sandyballs was getting very twitchy, he wasn’t used to such amazingly passive rambles, he desperately wanted to get outside and walk somewhere, anywhere.
He kept wandering out on to the terrace but, as if in answer to the rest of the NERDS’ prayers, the rain kept falling and it was obvious to most sane minded NERDS (lol) that as in Dieppe the previous year, the foul weather would irrevocably prevent any nasty rambling activity. At that time Lafayette had wanted to take all the NERDS up to the Shipwreck Church, but sadly his grandiose plans had been foiled and they had all had to sit outside at a pretty pavement café all afternoon on the seafront enjoying the teeming rain. (at least that’s what Lafayette told Sandyballs who had been absent at the time).

So, resigned to not rambling anywhere really, Sandyballs who was a purist and said he needed to ramble, (something to do with his hormones, obviously) resigned himself to catching a bus back to Seaford and going into a pub there as a sort of solace. We therefore found ourselves trudging through a wet, dank churchyard and entering the Plough nearby where we consoled ourselves for the lack of rambling with lots of gins and tonics, and discussed how much the barmaid looked like Juliette Greco. Matt thought Sandyballs looked so bereft, suicidal even, at the NERDS’ idleness, that he told him that a Death in Harness followed by a Deathbed Repentance would enable him to clean up both financially and spiritually. Sandy balls remained morose; more active rambling was what he had wanted that day (Tough!).

And so, not exactly the Longest (nor the Worst) Ramble we’d ever been on; but thanks to Froggy for all his hospitality and it’s a shame all your brilliant plans were spoilt. (Just get more cats in next time!). Sometimes NERDS just have to go with the flow and resign themselves to sitting in a couple of pubs all day. It’s a hard life.

Soon will be the 250th, or Dieppe Raid No. 47 (must check the records).
Let’s hope the weather over in France will be as brilliant as it was the last time most of us went to Dieppe. (Sandyballs, you didn’t hear that).




Lafayette.

Ausgust 2010 Joining Instructions

At last someone has decided to organise the next Ramble. Sandyballs appears to have delegated it to Froggy, again, and a very familiar ramble will take place. Here is the itinery:-

Salut les Nerds!

I've seen the blog and yes the joining instructions are long overdue. Harry is away this weekend so I'm attempting to fill his size 13 boots; not an easy task when you've only got fat little feet like mine. Nevertheless a plan is forming even as I write, so here is the lowdown:- Harry to take the 09:58 train from Lewes, picking up Lord Charles and Captain Haddock (if he can leave his new love alone for a day (plain sailing from now on)? Plus any waifs and strays with cuddling or dumpling tendacies? Train at Newhaven Town vers 10:06 and arriving in Seaford vers 10:14, thence chez moi. Seaford Boys (Matt, Paco and maybe Derek??)? to muster their loins to Sandore Road by 10:30 (in case I have to go to the station and maybe absent for 10 mins).
After a quickish coffee et al, we shall stride out towards the Golden Galleon (haven't actually been there for a while) for a couple, then onto The Plough & Harrow for Lunch. I haven't worked out which route to take as yet, but who cares? You've all got bus passes so we shall walk and we shall ride (sounds like a song by Medicine Head - bet no-one can get it)!
See you all Wednesday!
F-F Frogster

The August Ramble

Well here we are again. Just a week to go and no joining instructions! Sandyballs has yet to publish where everyone is going - if anywhere apart from the pub. Await further notification with baited breath.

New Ramble arrangements - Sandyballs speaks

Barbara A. can't do the pre-ramble. Probably best to postpone the Seaford ramble. I will put something together after I get back from La Belle France.

S. Balls

Further fabrications from flip flop frog

Guys!
Lovely banter pinging back & forth! Naming Barbara kinfly - how about Kinfly? I see BT has picked up on that one. As for the th(r)ong, much as I appreciate BT's gallant defence of my language skills, I do have to admit that my pinkies did hit an extra key. But what about the misuse of the word "passed", when it should have been "past" in the solo write-up -whew, that one got away, only to be changed in a later edition.
Matt and I have got a good idea for a ramble incorporating both The Flying Fish & The Hampden Arms but this would be miles away from Barbara's Gaff, so the August Ramble will most likely invlove a quickie at the Golden Galleon, then the banks of the cuck, and/or Friston Forest. More nearer the time.
Harry! Have a good one in France and I hope Lord Charles has not managed to bankrupt himself in Dublin!
Paco, I do hope you are alright???
Laters,
F-F F

Reply to Froggy and Advance Notice

First of all, I personally enjoyed Froggy's recent ' I wandered lonely as a cloud' moment. I think everyone should be encouraged to do their own thing now and then although, as Religious Adviser Matt would concur - it's more enjoyable when you do it with other people! Hence we cannot grant Froggy's escapade the full status of a Nerds Ramble and it cannot have a number!

Just as an aside, what are " thronged buttocks" ? Should that be "thonged" or, to be pedantic "be-thonged"? But I digress ( interesting though the subject might be).

I hope Froggy is not making a coup attempt to take over the Scribe's long held position, just when Lafayette's back was turned and he happened to be overseas in Dublin? After all, Frog already does the photos, the whip, the fetching and carrying and occasionally the route-mastering. Obviously he wants to be the complete NERDS Renaissance Man!

This brings be to the subject of the August Ramble, which is to take place on Wednesday 25th - as I am actually asking Froggy to route-master this one! The reason being is that Barbara Antjoule ( note to Scribe - please devise a (kind) Nerds name for Barbara) has very kinfly offered to host the pre-Ramble in Seaford. Therefore I am hoping to use the Frog's local knowledge to devise a suitable Seaford ramble. Perhaps those th(r) onged buttocks will be spotted again?

Matt will make very effort to attend, his water-works problems notwithstanding. More details nearer the time

Sandyballs

See Below and the author's above

Ah, what summer brings to journalists and authors, alike, the silly season pounces like a recent born kitten on flies, aping its mother on mice and moles, until through a cloudy haze of imagination the virgin page is raped with words akin to Socrates and Shakespeare, or in reality the flip flop frog of Seaford fame.
I shudder to set a prescient of singular rambles but who am I to hinder the thoughts and ramblings of a troubled mind, and so here is a “First” for your consideration; nude of montage (although that may follow if believe the story one does), yet descriptive to a fault.

The Froggy Solo Ramble

Participants: Froggy

Froggy had a day free on Monday last week. He dreamed about what it would be like to have loads of free days when he was retired, but had to content himself with just the one, for the time being. Oh what could he do? Where could he go? Such choices!

As it was such a lovely day, he decided to strike out towards Alfriston via the famous Mike Clarke route. Man Bag in order, he decided against going through the estate but chose instead to add more provisions from the local corner shop. Hmmm something to drink he thought, the one that had something to do with Quasi & Esmeralda, Hmmm and maybe certain other comforters……..

Off he strode, ignoring all the lecherous cat calls and other such like enticements casually thrown at him by passing motorists on their way to casting off their grannies and other unwanted rubbish at the local dump. On he went passed Seaford’s latest addition to the Metropolis, until he came face to face with his second major decision of the day. Which way? Choose wisely little bear and so he did and grunted his way up the side of the vast field that was now home to several escaped Welsh sheep. No time for that now, he mused – must get safely through the golf course with head intact. He thought he heard the strains of “For he’s a jolly good fellow”, but, sadly only the first word was clearly audible. Once clear of the flying circus he proceeded along the well known track until he came to a stile, which commanded a magnificent view of the route to come. He tarried a while, well it was more like 30 minutes, resting his parts on the nice warm wood and taking it in turn to refresh himself and then his imaginary friend. The path leading up to the stile had all but disappeared under the rampaging undergrowth. He remembered fondly of the time when the Nerds had braved the steep ascent in years gone by, when they were young and care-free and were all alive.

Talking himself into action, he girded his loins and set forth along the next stage, down through the trees, along the side of a field, and up the side of the next field to the very summit; where promises of yet more Quasi shouts gave him all the incentive he needed. At last, at the top, with only a flat and then downward journey to come, he sat and admired the scenery. He lapsed into a dream of meeting 2 young buxom women who would smooth his brow and help him to forget all his woes. By now the bottle was nearly empty and he needed to increase his pace if he were to get any lunch at all. Striding along a now familiar path he came across a five-barred gate, which offered a splendid view, in more ways than one. He could not believe his eyes, for there, not more than 50 feet away were the very same 2 young buxom women! Unable to tear his eyes away he was subjected to the sight of trousers coming off and a thronged pair of buttocks winking at him to come on over. By now the drink had befuddled his mind and he didn’t even think to whip out his trusty pair of binocs for a closer ogle. He looked at them then looked at his watch, then looked at them, then looked at his watch and what do you think? He scuttled off, ashamed of all this peeping, and instead hurtled down the path towards salvation in the shape of a very late ham and mushroom pie lunch at the Smugglers.

He tried nonchalantly to read his paper in the garden but was subjected to one of those conversations that you get between siblings about their demented old mum. Ah! Nearly 3, could catch the 15:17 rambler bus back to Seaford and imbibe some more in town. Perched on the grassy bit, he awaited his transport only to be accosted by the demented old mum, who had slipped passed her knife-stabbing children, and who by then had proceeded to confuse him about which planet he was on. Several minutes later, the rambler bus arrived going the other way. The wise old crone decided to go the long way home – and why not, there are people out there who have bus passes don’t you know!!??** After another half an hour or so, there was still no bus, so the weary traveller chose to return by whence he came. Upon leaving Alfriston, he encountered a pair of strapping Slovac types, adjusting their garments and plucking grass out of their hair. Hmmm, maybe someone else had got into his daydream?

The way back was uneventful apart from the half hour spent fast asleep in some field and a further half hour on his most favourite stile in the whole world. Again he spurned the scenic route back through the estate, for he considered “doing another first” and was soon sitting on a bar stool quaffing a pint of Stella in the Seven Sisters, with utter gay abandon and chortling to himself that he’d not been there to cook and slave for his ungrateful git pillock of a son. There were other “firsts” during the week but that’s another story….

What a fabulous way to spend a day. He’s already planning his second solo ramble, hmmm, maybe taking in the Engineer next time…..and with photies?

À bientôt

ADVANCE NOTICE - NEXT RAMBLES

The next Ramble is on Mercredi August 25th, but so far there are no joining instructions (See this space later). The following Ramble is from Mardi 21st September to Jeudi 23rd September. This Ramble is the 250th(ish) according to the gospel of Lafayette Jonah (etc). It is scheduled for Dieppe but we know how all things change (Note the New Forest Ramble becoming the IoW one). Further update will appear later.

BT

July's Ramble 2010

N.E.R.D.S’ Ramble No. 248 - 21/7/10.

Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Dumpling, Captain Haddock.

The Porno Picture Ramble.

No need to get over excited at the title of this month’s ramble. It wasn’t any of the NERDS posing for rude pictures (although Matt often feels the need), no, nor did we end up at a pole dancing club (in Lewes??? you must be joking) All will be disclosed (note I didn’t say revealed) towards the end of this account.

Apologies for absence were received from:

Matt - Another spurious water leak -must be getting old or something;
Paco - Personal
B.T. - Couldn’t get there in time - Christ, you only live down in the South of France!
Froggy - Might not get there, I’ve got nasty swollen feet because I over indulged on
holiday and I’m taking dozens of pills because I’m over-weight, got
diarrhoea, high cholesterol and nobody talks to me but I’ll try to make it and
if I do you’ll all have the honour of me bestowing my presence on you but
I might not anyway because I’m feeling a bit poorly, so there!

In the event, the brave Froggy struggled to the start despite his shitty looking feet and decided to give it a go. What a hero! (clap, clap).

Scene - downstairs in Lafayette’s den; assorted NERDS surrounded by choccy biscuits, coffee and glasses of questionable liquids; It’s about ten o’clock a.m.
Sandy balls -” Have you got any sun screen? I’ve got poor, girly, freckly skin and I might get burnt.”
Dumpling - “ Yes, I know the problem, my head gets really raw in the sun and I can’t do a thing with it.
Lafayette - Oh, all right I’ll rob some sun screen off daughter No.2, but don’t blame me if you both get pregnant.

So after the initial, petty rambling difficulties had been ironed out, the NERDS set off down to Newhaven station where they bumped into Captain Haddock who sat there twiddling his ex-beard and wondering why he’d allowed his daughter to set off on a trip round South America armed only with his pin number. (Daughters, eh?…)
NERDS embraced NERDS, lots of air kisses, much mutual recognition etc.

We got off the train at Southease - one stop along - and prepared to negotiate the evil looking river works where the Council were trying to divert the Mighty Ouse somewhere. It was only thanks to Sandyballs who had had the foresight to recce the route that we didn’t get disorientated at this point. Captain H. suggested we follow the Mighty Ouse towards Rodmell rather than hacking along the road which the Routemaster had planned, so we got all bucolic and followed the river path, carefully skirting all the sheep shit and nasty rural stuff that comes with outings into the countryside. After much huffing, puffing and the usual ill informed dissent we got off the river path and were led by Lafayette’s brilliant management and local know-how up towards the Abergavenny Arms where we were due to eat.

Rodmell itself is a pretty village with overpriced houses for the mega-rich of the Lewes overspill. Dumpling showed an immediate interest and began banging on people’s doors demanding to know how much they’d paid for their property, and whether they were richer than him. Most of them called him a pleb and told him to fuck off. However one particular resident called Woolf, I believe, said he was adorable and if he came in for tea she would be delighted to write a book about him.

The rest of us, unimpressed, strode on to the pub and took over the back garden. The Abergavenny had been for a long time out of bounds to NERDS (and in fact to everybody else) on account of the landlord having taken advantage of an offer he couldn’t refuse to turn his car park into a housing estate and retire to Capo Verde on the proceeds. Nevertheless, some brave soul had obviously sunk his redundancy money into this new venture and was prepared to put up with supplying the NERDS with food and drink occasionally.

The lunch was good - Lafayette had a salad in the name of moderation (leaves more room for the drink, see. Another trick passed on to him by the erstwhile Philby -requiescat and all that.). Fortunately, just as we were finishing pint number 2 (ie. and not before) we started to get surrounded by massive plops of African-style rain which made us scurry inside to mix with the Rodmell intelligentsia who had been studiously avoiding looking in our direction for some time.

Anyway, standing in the queue for more beer Lafayette found himself engaged in conversation with a somewhat statuesque and rather beautiful German female type.
She immediately wanted to know where he had learned his perfect German and especially how he had come to have such an in depth knowledge of the recent World Cup Football matches, especially the ones where The Fatherland had so gloriously prevailed. Lafayette blushed and told her that, actually, his father was German and had served in the Waffen S.S. as an under cover secret agent for the Gestapo in the last war. Sadly their budding romantic conversation had to be curtailed at this point as the female’s lowering Untermensch of a husband came blundering up wanting to know why his drink was taking so long to come.

After lunch, on went the ramble up Porky Woman Hill (don’t ask) to the top where
Kiri Te Kanawa, a famous chanteuse from New Zealand lived when she was “resting” between operas. We all knew that she welcomed strangers to her pad, especially NERDS, who tried to importune her for a kiwi fruit or two after a boozy lunch down below in the village. However that day there was no answer to Froggy’s impassioned pleas through her letter box. We did notice a paparazzo lurking with his camera cocked in an adjacent field, but perhaps Mme Kanawa hadn’t taken out her curlers that day and was shy of besmirching her reputation. Never mind, Kiri,
Lafayette will make you famous; apparently everybody reads his write-ups.

Sandyballs feared that the price of tarrying would be an arse full of buckshot so hurried everyone away. As we skirted the vast park-like garden we did notice a strange little designer gatey type hole, about eighteen inches high cut out of the side fence. Was it to let Kiri’s wallabies back in after they’d spent a night on the piss? Or maybe it was to enable her (small) lover to gain access when she needed her tonsils massaged. The mystery was never solved.

Now came the nasty part of the ramble when we had to go up, up, over the hills and far away. The South Downs can be merciless to unfit NERDS but that day the sun shone and we were all light of heart (especially after a few pints) Sandyballs began to relate some fantasy about being stalked by Kaddy Lee-Preston (one of the Famous Weather Girls which middle aged men often admire for their meteorological skills). Apparently she had followed Sandyballs from pub to pub in Lewes making suggestive remarks about his sunny disposition and suggesting he came back to hers to see her isobars. Not as good as Lafayette’s near- miss adventure with Helga von Dortmund back in the pub, though.

Over the Downs we went. At the top you could see the Atlantic on one side and the Pacific on the other, - just to the right of Newhaven. We tiptoed past a nasty big bull who looked as if he might do us some damage if we looked at his cows too long, and passed a fit looking 20 year old, all dressed in lycra who was sprinting up the hill with her dog and who did not stop to listen to Froggy’s exposition of how to find the most refined porno films on the internet. Sad, sad, sad.

Eventually we got to the Juggs at Kingston where we were to sample the famous Bishops Finger (beer) and where Froggy again regaled us with tales of his going on a “Ship Awareness “ course financed by the Home Office. I ask you. Does an I.O. at Newhaven have to be sent on such a course? Is this not a gross waste of public funds?
Or is it an alternative to the “ Get to Know Your Arse from Your Elbow “ course that is compulsory for all Customs officers? Froggy seemed to have benefited somehow - there was some talk about somebody called Rebecca nearly succumbing to his boyish charms. Sad, sad, sad again.

Now for the bit you’ve all been waiting for. The reason for this month’s title. Well, as we were passing down the lane leading to Lewes Rugby Club (which Sandyballs reckons is an infamous haunt of those who take out girlfriends, mistresses, boys, goats, melons etc.for a spot of illicit dogging - although why he should know beats me) there were to be observed, every twenty five yards or so along the route, photocopies of something or other all casually strewn around. On closer examination the photocopies were all of the same set of male private parts bedecked with a tasteful ribbon, and displayed as if for a special present for (obviously) a special person.
(It’s all right, Matt; your copy is in the post as I write). The NERDS were all shocked to their separate cores. Gosh, weren’t they big, Who could possibly sell enough ribbon to go round all that; I wonder who this special person is; She must be a big girl (or boy).

Anyway, another NERDS’ mystery to remain unsolved. Shaking our heads in shock we hurried on and ended up at the Kings Head in Lewes where thankfully nobody accused us of scattering filth around the countryside and urban environs, and where we had a last pint before going home.

So… what a lot of exciting things. What with being constantly (almost) importuned by sex mad females, and having been constantly told what a Lothario Froggy had been in his youth (please read that last bit the way it was meant to sound), together with all the other stuff, it had been a quite adventurous ramble.

Thanks be to all who took part including Dumpling and Haddock, and to Sandyballs for most of the route. Thanks to Froggy for being so brave and doing the whole of the walk despite his poorly ankles, we hope they get better soon.

Soon it’s the 250th so start saving up now!


You too B.T. - we’re going to Dieppe and that’s your part of the world (ish).


Lafayette.

The Wednesday 21st Ramble

As of now the ramble is still scheduled to go ahead with or without Froggy. Await this page for further details.
BT

How to avoid a ramble

Yo Nierdos!

Here is a photo, taken just minutes ago, of my poor feet. I shall be consulting Malcolm on tonight's night shift on how he managed to get rid of such appalling water retention, but I fear that it may take many days. I have already chatted with Matt about the possibility of missing the ramble altogether (it would seem that we both have water problems)!!

However, if I can make it home off nights at a reasonable hour and get to Charlie's by the appointed hour (t'would have to be the 09:58 train at the very earliest) I'll see how the fat feet feel after lunch. Thereupon I might be able to grind out the entire route back to Lewes (who would want to miss a lovely foaming pint of Bishop's Finger at the Juggs)?

Alternatively, I may have to give up the ghost and catch a train home from Southease. Que sera sera.

Hope to see you all tomorrow, however briefly.

Feet viewing by appointment only.

Flip Flop Fat Feet Fill

July 2010 Ramble Joining Instructions

Hail all Nerds,

Next ramble is on Wednesday 21st (Independance Day in Belgium!). We are lunching at the Abergavenny Arms in Rodmell then proceeding up Porky Woman Hill, calling in at Kiri Te Kanawa's place for tea and cakes. Then back to Lewes - possibly with a pit-stop at the Jugs Arms.

Lafayette has kindly offered to host the pre-ramble, so suggest we get there about 10.00. We then have to take the 11.32 train from NHN Town to Southease. Seaford and Newhaven types should therefore get a RETURN ticket to Lewes.

As for the August ramble, I have a week's leave at home before the French holiday for week commencing 1/8. Unfortunately I cannot do Wednesday 4/8 but any other day that week is fine. Tuesday? Thursday? Please let me know your preferences.

See you next week

Sandyballs

The "New Forest" Ramble!

N.E.R.D.S. Ramble No. 247.

8th - 10th June 2010.

The Isle of Wight Ramble.

Those Present - Froggy, Paco, B.T., Sandyballs, Lafayette.


Day One - Getting There.


That day the NERDS were not well. Below is a list of their then ailments:

Lafayette - sore throat and writers’ cramp (from last month)

Sandy balls - poorly, gouty toe with pins inside it.

B. T. - a feeling of impending doom.

Paco - a feeling of not quite being on this planet.

Froggy - Obsessive Compulsive Syndrome.

Paco had volunteered to drive because he’d got a car that would hold five fat bastards
and which we hoped would get us down to The New Forest in one piece. Lafayette had been promised lots of walks round the N.F. with opportunities to pet ponies, moon about in leafy glades and get drunk on local ice cream - but he was cruelly deceived and it was not to be. Nor did the weather look too hopeful - I mean, when was the last time you saw Carol Kirkwood dressed in a diving suit to tell you about a few possible mild showers? (Nice tits, though).

Before picking up Sandyballs Lafayette decided he needed a few bottles of water to mix with his medecine and so a stop was made at the kiosk opposite Lewes station.
Unfortunately this was not one of those places where you can dodge into and say “six bottles of water and a Daily Worker, please” and get away in less than thirty seconds. Oh, no. There were just three people ahead of Lafayette in the queue but they’d all been obviously sent out to get both lunch and dinner for the staff of most of the factories in Lewes. And to make things worse the shop people were laboriously buttering each piece of bread and then it was “Do you want grilled porpoise in it as well as that piece of mermaid’s belly button you originally specified? And was that with chips? Good job that Lafayette was the patient type because after thirty five minutes or so Paco came out to see if he’d absconded with the whip.
Anyway, all watered up, we finally went to pick up Sandyballs who was shamefacedly standing there in true sartorial shambles. Pleading poorly foot syndrome he had had the temerity that day to get dressed in sandals with socks!!! Lafayette was appalled; What a faux pas! What would the NERDS say? What would lady Gaga say? What would Willy Walsh say? (Two of Lafayette’s current role models). Lafayette himself would never stoop as low as this however bad his throat felt. Fortunately the NERDS were squabbling over the contents of a hipflask or some such and failed to notice this
gross social gaffe. And so on to Hampshire.

On arrival at The Kings Arms in Lymington The NERDS immediately smirked at the barmaid (Sam) and ordered four pints of Ringwood (with one pint of lager for one of us who claimed he was suffering from a mimsy tummy [not mumsy bum]). This, the local beer was excellent and the expected rain had not yet reached this far south. Unfortunately, because our rooms weren’t quite ready we were denied the possibility of an afternoon’s crash and so, reluctantly, we were dragooned into a post prandial stroll by Sandyballs who seemed to be the only one with a game plan.

The stroll took us along the pretty docky seafront where twats with blazers and club ties were waffling on about tacking , mizzling, casting off, walking the plank and what a good job the Conservatives had got back in again wasn’t it? Froggy who was having problems now with his mimsy bladder found a Dr Who Loo. What’s one of these? You may well ask. Well, both Lafayette and Sandyballs noticed that when Froggy went in he looked like Froggy, but when he came out he was old, bent and had a funny beard. So he had obviously time-travelled (forwards). Eventually Lafayette who had only had three pints of Ringwood for lunch worked out that it wasn’t actually Froggy who had come out, but someone else. Another mystery of the universe solved!

Deciding that if we couldn’t beat the Yacht Twats we might as well join them, we had an ice cream and repaired to the Yacht Club for a few gin and tonics. Every one was sitting around in wealthy, self satisfied splendour (the rest of the customers, not the NERDS) and so we bankrupted the whip on yachty drinks and sought directions from the yachty barmaid (nice tits, again). Sandyballs thought he had vaguely followed what she had been saying about where to go but whether this had anything to do with part two of our walk was anyone’s guess.

Out we went, and walked round the point (that’s nautical language for up the road) and thereafter ensued a mild dispute amongst the NERDS about the next day’s route. Lafayette said he had been faithfully promised that we should go all round the New Forest because he had been running short of coconuts at home and wanted to gather some from the foresty trees. Nobody had the heart to disillusion him about the state of the local flora and fauna (apparently it wasn’t coconut season until late September when the locals pulled the pigs off truffling duties and sent them up the trees) so by force majeur Lafayette was persuaded to visit the Isle of Wight because the coconuts were better there (allegedly, perhaps).

We wandered au bord de la mer for a bit until Paco’s middle age began to tell on him.
So we sat down and watched all the young people sprinting around with dogs, getting fit and whatnot, and then we short cutted back into town feeling that we couldn’t impose more of this gruelling walking on poor Paco (besides, we were getting thirsty)
Back in town and a bit disorientated we asked for further directions from a lady who was dead-heading triffids in her front garden. She was quite willing (to tell us the way) and said her garden was known as lost corner because everyone er…got lost there. Mindful of the Dr Who Lavatory, we scurried off not wishing to fall through a tear in the space/time continuum and subsequently find ourselves in a place with no pubs.

Fortunately we got back to The Kings Arms OK and were shown to our rooms.
Ah, yes the rooms…. Sandyballs, B.T. and Lafayette were in The Family Room.
This was sort of on the low side of almost adequate because at least we had a kettle
(no cups, mind), a telly, en-suite shower, no coat hangers (for B.T.’s tights) a choice of black or a white rats to keep us company and a smell of fresh paint. Sandyballs ‘bagged’ the biggest double bed before anyone else could opt for it and Lafayette ‘bagged’ the cot nearest the ‘en suite’ so he wouldn’t have so far to go for his midnight pee. That left the bed nearest the wardrobe for BT who was later coerced into making tea, coffee and other assorted drinks for everyone! So not too bad really. Froggy and Paco’ s room was a bit more basic - no ensuite, no mirror, no towels to go with the no en suite and no choice of rats. Pretty grim, you might say. So the first thing B.T. did was to make a lightning sortie chez Pacfrog and nick all the coat hangers. “ Now at least we’ll have something to eat, “ he said “ You forgot the rats,” said Lafayette.

Having settled in, Pacfrog went outside to smoke something nasty and then we all went off for aperitifs at another nautical pub called the Ship Inn and Co. ‘along the point’ We sat outside where the smokers weren’t allowed to smoke (tee, hee) and where Froggy entertained us with funny jokes he had heard last week at his primary school (Lafayette particularly liked the one about the hen, the frog and the library books).

Back at the Kings Arms we almost named that day’s experiences The Recession Ramble because of the shitty state of Pacfrog’s room but instead listened to B.T.’s conspiracy theories about Froggy’s French i/d card (wot?) how the French are determined to rip off all foreigners and take away their pensions, and how the Albigensian Movement for Democracy had been infiltrated by the French Taleban
as far back as the eleventh century. ( So, are you going to support your adopted country in the World Cup, or not then, B.T.?)

The evening was spent in some Bengali restaurant where the birianis were too dry and the waiter was too above his station. I mean, fancy telling Lafayette that you weren’t supposed to eat curry with your fingers. He’s been to places where the natives eat curries with their enemies’ fingers - which they’d cut off in battle.

We trailed back along the High street and came across a real whiz looking French restaurant which we’d so far managed to overlook. Tomorrow, perhaps, although B.T. warned us that the French used to feed snails to the Cathars in the thirteenth century to make them blow up so that the King of France could excommunicate them all and get his hands on their massive assets (Was Carol Kirkwood a Cathar, then?). Anyway, back to The Kings Arms where we renewed our fragile relationship with barmaid
Sam and where Paco suddenly lost his cool about the I.S.U., the Independent Stalinist Union to which he had once belonged but to his chagrin had been taken over by the
N.C.P.S., the Nancy Corporate Pipesmokers’ Syndicate which had blocked his promotion and forced him to retire prematurely. What bastards!

Lafayette was unable to stand any more of this self pitying twaddle so went to bed -
only to be woken by a thunderous knocking further down the corridor when Sandyballs in his cups (for a change) had begun hammering on the next room’s door and demanding that Lafayette let him in (ha, ha). Fortunately B.T. managed to smooth over the angry person who had been disturbed in mid-coitus , and after a few doses of rum and cherry cake the Family Room NERDS all crashed out.


Day Two - The Isle of Wight Ramble.

Sandyballs awoke early craving tea. Since FamilyNERDS had a kettle this would be no problem. There were even teabags and a bit of milk and stuff. Oh dear! the ensuing brew tasted as if the rats had pissed in it. Everyone’s tasted the same - sort of like rat-piss. Sandyballs had given up by now and returned grumbling to his pit. Up rose B.T., bright eyed and bushy tailed (sort of) and volunteered to make coffee. This turned out to be not quite as vile, although we had used all the milk by now. Lafayette came up with an original solution. Let’s put Spanish brandy in it and pretend it’s milk. Seemed to work all right. Maybe if Lafayette puts empty brandy bottles out on his doorstep the milkman will change them for full ones - who knows?

Froggy strolled in and drank the rest of the milk. Said Paco was poncing around in a cool dressing gown wearing a hat with one of those little tassels on the top - No shit!
NERDS went down for a fried breakfast and met Marisol - all 4 foot 11inches of her.
She was Spanish, blonde, cooked a mean breakfast and was in charge of the pub.
Better be nice to her then. She was OK, even spoke English, had all the attributes to be a perfect wife. No, not for you B.T., you’ve had three already! Better go out before any more bad ideas surface.

So a long walk to the ferry terminal where most of us get cheapo senior tickets with one glaring exception. What’s that, Froggy? You’re still at primary school? No senior ticket for you then. Grump Grump. Next is standing in the footies queue to get on board. Grump, grump, still. NERDS get to the front of the queue and get RLE. Too many people on this ferry; you’re not posh enough; wait for the next one in ten minutes. OK, not a problem; it’s a nice day most of us thought. But from the rear came an ever increasing ‘Grump, grump everso grump. They never did this at my
primary school blah, blah, blah.etc, etc.’ In the end we got on board but found there was no bar. Wot sort of ferry is this then? Oh well, it’s only a half hour crossing.

On the lovely Isle of Wight we all piled off, rambled twenty five yards and dived into The Kings Head. “Do you sell coconuts?” asked Lafayette. “No, but we have got some beer.” said the friendly barman “I’m afraid all our coconut pigs have been loaned out to the mainland where they’re up trees on the far side of that New Forest Thingy.”
“ Bugger!” thought Lafayette. “I’ll have to drink more beer. I don’t suppose you sell pedometers do you, only we walk so far on these rambles that it’s nice to keep a track.”“ No, sorry, “ said the kind man. “We’re fresh out of pedometers at the moment; it’s those coconut pigs you know; they took them all over to the mainland with them.”

The NERDS made the best of a bad job since there were no coconuts and drank a lot of the local Yates beer. “It’s our pigs that make this beer, you know,” said the kind barman. “They mash it with their trotters; that’s what gives it its special flavour.”
“That is, “he added “when they’re not out looking for coconuts.” Lafayette started to vaguely wonder what had been in that special milk he’d put in his coffee that morning.

Sandyballs insisted we ramble further so we went about a mile round the harbour and visited a local primary school. Here Froggy interviewed the kids in the playground and got some more jokes for his stand up comic routine material. However, the lure of the Piggy Beer drew us back to the Kings Head and we had an excellent cheap fish and chip meal there for the price of half a coconut each. Lafayette began to compose a song along the lines of “This is the shortest ramble we’ve ever been on!” but while he thought he’d got the lyrics right he wasn’t sure about the tune and decided to let Froggy have a crack at this when he got home and out of hearing

On the ferry Froggy seemed a bit perturbed about some feud he’d had with somebody at work. Nobody we knew, thank God, but Paco lent a sympathetic ear. Back on dry land we thought we’d go for a drink (how novel!) and wandered off to The Waggon and Horses which was ostensibly closed. Grump, grump, grump, we went across the car park until all of a sudden another kind barman appeared and offered us the use of his pub garden as long as we behaved soberish and didn’t go on about feuds at work.

This worked fine; the weather was pleasantly warm and everyone was mellow. Paco and Lafayette went back into the pub for another round and nearly got loved to death by Milo, the pub boxer who nearly broke Lafayette’s leg with his enthusiastically wagging tail. Finally we thought we ought to get back to The Kings Head in Lymington otherwise Marisol might be missing us.

But the well laid plans of NERDS oft go astray. Half way back Paco realised he wasn’t wearing his dressing gown any more; and what was worse this was where he kept his car keys! Panic, panic, panic! Nor was it one of those special dressing gowns equipped with a satnav that found its own way back to its owner when you whistled. What to do? First get back to the pub and have a drink to get rid of the stress. This we did; rang up The Isle of Pigs but no keys; rang up the ferry but ring back onTuesday; rang up the Doggy Pub and bingo! The dressing gown was lining Milo’s doggy basket and he didn’t want to give it up. He’d also swallowed the car keys. Looks like Paco had some hard decisions to make, ie. Get back to the pub, get the dog drunk, extricate the keys somehow and sneak off with his dressing gown.

A couple of hours later our lift back home had been assured. The dog had been really generous and even told Paco under which bush he had sicked up the car keys.
Good Boy, Milo! That’s worth another drink to celebrate. Let’s go to Brasserie Gerard for dinner.

This was a good place to go. They did proper French food - like steak and chips and proper French wine - like red,white and rosay (please excuse spelling; only Mrs Lafayette can operate the accents on this gadget [I can = rosé]; ed). The one waiter was French so B.T. acted as interpreter for the main course, and the other was Iranian so Paco was deputed to try him in Turkish after Lafayette’s Urdu had failed. Sadly they both spoke English as did the girly waitress with the short hair who looked French but came from Winchester. Anyway, after a few glasses of wine and a couple of forkfulls of Froggy’s chips who cared? The meal -coquilles Saint Jacques, steak, chips, Froggy’s chips, cheese, vin rouge, vin rosé, and ice cream for Lafayette was very pleasant. Pity about the size of the bill; and all for us poor NERDS who only eat like sparrows at the best of times.

Back at The Kings Arms and in the Family/NERDS room one of us kept going on about somebody nasty at work (Newhaven) who was (allegedly) being machiaevellian, cruel, unsympathetic, horrible, wicked, awful, even crueller and “not being nice to me”. By now we had all got fed up with hearing this terrible person’s name being touted about and began singing a lovely song to drown out the waves of paranoia coming from the end of one of the beds.

The song which was brought out at regular intervals went something like this:

Tin of Beans, Tin of Beans , riding through the glen;
Tin of Beans, Tin of Beans, with his band of men;
Feared by the Frog, loved by the Dog; (No not her, how dare you!)
Tin of Beans, Tin of Beans, Tin of Beans.

Good eh? Lafayette is now thinking of compiling a short collection of NERDS’ ditties in a slim volume (very slim). The above will take its rightful place as No.1
Together with such classics as ‘This is the worst ramble we’ve ever been on’
and ‘ I’m a Polish Gypsy (P.A., P.A., P.A.) - remember that one?

Day Three - Getting Back.

This was the bit Philby hated most in Shropshire - the final Wrap Party when you knew that Reality beckoned her boring finger at you and the drinking had to stop.
But not quite yet.

We descended to pay our dues and to gob up the last big fry-up. Little Marisol continued her usual high standard of catering. She had imported her brother, Josay (accents again, I’m afraid ) who seemed to have had more wives than even B.T. and actually looked quite Spanish in a dago-ish sort of way ( not like Paco who must have been a little blond angel when he was born).

Marisol told us her life story, Josay told us his life story , Froggy told everyone about his book, Lafayette told everybody about his terrible experience on The Chartres, Sandyballs told everybody about his toe and B.T. told everybody about the iniquities of the French government. At the end of all this we felt we all knew each other quite well. And so we left Lymington. Lafayette felt the rooms in the pub reminded him of the crappy rooms in the Louis Armstrong in Dover when he was on relief in the 70‘s; and he felt rather nostalgic; Sandyballs reserved judgement.

And so back on the road which surprisingly wound onwards to The Black Rabbit at Arundel. We always end up here, we always sit in the same spot and it usually rains. Not today though; the rain held off and we had a last pint (or so) of Badger Beer and sang a few choruses of ‘ Tin of Beans’ when the atmosphere got a bit fraught. We decided that there was in fact a difference between Old Gits and Old Trouts - The former are NERDS and pub customers, and the latter are parasites who faff about and get in the way of the former. Twas ever thus.


We agreed that in general it had been a successful three days. There had been two interesting drunken rants, lots of exciting food, drink and people, and nobody had got seriously injured.

Thanks of course go to Paco for driving

To Froggy for still being our ‘Yoof Rep’ and taking photos
To Sandyballs for organising the “walks”
To B.T. for taking the big Photos .
And to Lafayette for writing this stuff and making up songs.


Now time to detox.

Ha, Ha, good luck.

Lafayette.

The May 2010 Ramble

Well here it is folks; The ramble accordging to Lafayette. There do appear to be a few anomolies but the photographs do provide an interesting account although there is not one phorograph of Froggy. Is this because he was not there? Or is it that he could not prevail upon anyone to 'take one with me in it'. Anyway; here commencth the lesson:-

N.E.R.D.S. Ramble 246 - 12th May 2010

Those Present - Lafayette, Froggy, El Paco, Sandy balls (a bit).

The Dithering About Ramble.


Today the NERDS were somewhat depleted. Matt put up the usual pathetic excuse that he couldn’t be bothered coming; Captain Haddock was nowhere to be seen; Bronco was off lassooing horses in the Camargue and Sandyballs had a gout related toe infection meaning he couldn’t walk but could issue instructions from his Bunker in Berlin. Unfortunately for Froggy the instructions were written down in minuscule Martian and sent to his mobile phone. This, together with the fact that Froggy had lost his reading glasses meant that no way could he make sense of anything, so nobody had a fucking clue where we were supposed to actually ramble that day.

So off we set from Lewes station. At least the weather was OK - sunnyish and reasonably warm. Froggy led us through Southover towards Kingston saying all the while that we had done this ramble before so nothing could possibly go wrong could it? Paco trundled along moaning that his eldest daughter was pregnant again and had forgotten his birthday the day before, and Lafayette covered his eyes in despair convinced disasters were going to happen - ho ho, just watch this space.

We got to a field - yes I know this happens sometimes in NERDS’ rambles - but was it the right field? Where did we go from here? Which direction was the correct one? Was the ramble actually today, anyway? Paco assured us it was ( and he should know)
There was a lot of DITHERING and FAFFING ABOUT cos it was obvious that Froggy didn’t have a clue what to do next even though Kingston (our pit stop destination) was practically visible as the crow flew. Lafayette was snorting with impatience so Froggy took some nice photos by a gate (which gate? Was it the right gate?) to shut him up and calm him down.

Eventually we hit a road (was it the right road even?) and prepared to go across country through a farm towards Kingston except Froggy’s map wasn’t very clear and he hadn’t got his reading glasses and the sun was in his eyes and he wanted a wee and where were we anyway? Eventually Lafayette, in an uncharacteristic burst of impatience, took the ramble by the horns and led his Chosen People out of The Wilderness unto Kingston via the A 249.

Finally we had got to The Juggs, the pit-stop pub agreed on by Sandyballs. Now we could relax a bit and let some of the tension and stress that attends each ramble just ebb away.(lol again). Finally after about three pints of Bishops Finger (rude Bishop!)
Lafayette stopped snorting with impatience at other people’s frailties and realised that other NERDS weren’t perhaps as perfect as he, and he should make allowances for this humbling fact. At least Froggy had recommended the beer here so he was forgiven a bit (only a bit ) for his FAFFING and ARSING ABOUT during the route mastering.
When Lafayette had calmed down and stopped cursing, swearing and banging his head against the flint wall, Froggy lead everyone through Kingston out into the countryside towards the Swan at Southover via the large bridge over the A27 where some pillock had once jumped off with a rope around his neck to try to commit suicide and ended up decapitating himself (ie. did actually kill himself but not quite in the way he had envisioned).

Anyway, we entered The Swan to see Sandyballs in his bathchair moaning that his foot hurt and that’s why he couldn’t have got the pints in for the rest of us (just his own) and where had we been, we were late. So Paco blamed Lafayette for drinking too much and Lafayette blamed Froggy for inept route mastering and Froggy blamed Sandyballs for sending him illegible instructions and normal NERDS relations were resumed.

After a good dinner of some pie or other that Sandyballs had recommended (it was very good) Lafayette decided not to endorse Baby Flintoff’s passport application since he was too pissed to write properly and he didn’t want to end up with Baby Flintoff being issued with a forged Nigerian passport by mistake. And so Sandyballs wheeled himself off to get his stitches plucked out (It’ll only take five minutes or so and I’ll be out this afternoon riding my bike - you just watch, ha ha ). We never saw him again.

So, the rest of the NERDS decamped along the road to the King’s Head simply to escape the incipient showers and not to drink any more beer - that would be immoral.
While Lafayette was prising more money out of the hole in the wall Paco had been making enquiries of the barman and found there was no cognac to be had for the café cognacs. So we had to drink café /malt whisky (not quite the same). Meanwhile in the back room Froggy had come upon a vision of 22 stone loveliness holding a little dog who said her name was Ivy and she was half Peruvian.

Paco entered the room, gave a start and they started talking to each other in Spanish.
Lafayette’s Spanish is only Home Office exam level (ie. rubbish) but he managed to piece together the following conversation:

Paco I haven’t seen you for ages, how is your mum?

Ivy You should care , you bastardo, after you abandoned us I heard she was selling herself on the streets of Caracas.

Paco (shame facedly) I couldn’t stay, I met this nice Brazilian woman and she wanted to have my babies.

Ivy And what about me? I was only little, I had to go off to Mexico and buy little dogs to trade for food otherwise I too might have ended up pregnant like all your other relatives. By the way, what happened to that friend of yours - the nice one with the beard who spoke crap Spanish and who was always trying to get my knickers off?

Paco Sadly, he went to a better place.


What happened next is only to guess because the rest of the NERDS (all two of them) ran out of the pub and scampered home before any more sordid details of Paco’s past were revealed.

So, an exciting ramble with lots of incident and excitement. No plaudits to anyone because it nearly ended up as a shambles, although thanks to Froggy for spotting the Bishop’s Finger. Lets hope Sandyballs manages to get on his bike again before Christmas.

Next month The New Forest - Whoopee!


Lafayette.