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
Monday, August 30, 2010
Friday, August 27, 2010
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.
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.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
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
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
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
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.
Saturday, August 07, 2010
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
S. Balls
Friday, August 06, 2010
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
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
Thursday, August 05, 2010
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
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
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
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.
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
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
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