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
Thursday, July 29, 2010
Friday, July 23, 2010
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
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
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
Saturday, July 17, 2010
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
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
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