NERDS’ RAMBLE No. 258, 10 - 12/5/11
Another New Forest Ramble.
The Froggy Show.
Those Present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Lafayette, B.T.
It was indeed The Froggy Show for he had organized it, produced it, financed it, arranged the publicity, got the backing
(other NERDS) and even provided a chauffeur driven (himself)
limousine to transport everyone there. Where? why to the New Forest, of course, where Froggy grew up, fed the ponies, fell in love a few times; (and not just with the ponies!) and finally turned into the professional officer you see today.
Admittedly he had fallen down in one respect - the sweets in the chauffeured limousine were crap, no sugar you see, but the conversation was jolly. For example, did you know that Carl the cleaner’s other job was that of stand-up comedian and that he would disappear into the bog at work a lot (we did presume that this was to practice on himself - the stand-up, not anything else.)
Or that for the next few days Froggy’s arsehole would be as the centre of the universe for all us NERDS? Read on and eventually all will be revealed…..yeah.
So we arrived at the Rose and Crown in Brockenhurst, our favourite pub, grabbed a beer and went to have lunch and sit in the beeyootiful back garden where Lafayette had four years previously enjoyed his first pensioner’s meal (much to the chagrin of Sandyballs who was only 59 at the time.) But Sandyballs had a trick up his sleeve. With a flourish he produced a number of ancient photos taken, guess what, of the NERDS in The New Forest and including Philby, taken in 1996.
Oh dear, oh dear. No greater proof hath man of the march of anno domini than Philby’s photos. We felt him hovering above us cackling as we saw with dismay what we had looked like and realised with dread what we had become. Lafayette will spare you the foul details and let Froggy’s and BT’s photos speak for themselves. But how lovely we all looked then; so fresh, so handsome….so daft! Even the Bish looked sort of good looking
in a bishy sort of way (no, not really, I lie). So in dismay and despair at our profound degeneration we sent Froggy off to get
some more pints and vowed to eat, drink and do whatever the hell we had to do…fast, otherwise we would end up like Philby, like dead before our allotted time.
To cheer us up a bit Sandyballs pulled his second stunt of the day and produced his sooper, dooper new I-phone with its million and twenty three apps. Apparently there was an app to show your present location. Lafayette asked what was wrong with looking out of the window (non-technical, you see) but Sandyballs said it was useful for NERDS’ outings like the present one, when you woke up feeling like shite somewhere different and bingo! Your phone would tell you exactly where you were. BT said all he had to do was ask the wife lying next to him, (whoever she was that week) but we all hit on the obvious flaw in this, i.e. he’d been married three times and might get the wrong answer. Lafayette still preferred the “looking out of the window” option although he did admit he had once or twice woken up at Gatwick in the middle of the night and wondered where the fuck he was (that damned Shirley and her bottles of wine!).
So after lunch it was to be the mini ramble. You know that sort of stroll up the road to loosen the muscles, clear the head and prepare one for the main ramble on the following day……..
No way; Froggy had other plans, were we but to know it. The NERDS were taken into the south side of the Forest, along the path we went along with Philby that time he was still wearing his carpet slippers after breakfast when nobody had the heart to disillusion him. (We were so shy then). The weather was still pleasant and sunny with just the odd cyclist about. Froggy’s sense of direction started to fail so he consulted the map and asked the rest of the NERDS where we should go. Cor! He’s a born leader innit? Sandyballs started to fiddle with the sat nav app on his phone and then lost his way in the middle of mode 62b so carried on fiddling because that’s what he does. Lafayette got bored and marched off in completely the wrong direction (we were to find) into a pleasant looking woodland glade. During all this pantomime we all stood on a large stone and fell off a few times before BT managed to get us all upright at the same time and made us famous for ever with his camera.
Eventually we all agreed that we were in fact lost and ought to do something about it before night fell and the world supplies of Old Thumper ran out. So we backtracked, leaving behind Lafayette’s sunny glade to his disappointment, skirted a long way round a treacherous looking bog and ended up on Froggy’s blasted heath where he had actually wanted to take us. Time was definitely marching on. The NERDS were getting thirsty, they felt like the remnants of Napoleon’s army retreating from Moscow (without the snowy bits). Remember, this was just the mini ramble and already we were totally shagged out.
Finally we went over the railway bridge to the Foresters Arms and collapsed in the back garden. It was still warm and sunny and the Old Thumper started to flow. Now, discounting the fact that we had all walked a vast distance (at least 4-5 miles), had wandered around in circles , and undoubtedly become dehydrated, it is a well-known fact among the NERDS that Old Thumper not only deprives one of speech but also takes away all attempts at rational thought. So for a while we just sat there in the sun giggling at each other until B.T. broke the silence by stating he had always thought of Sheila Stone as looking like a caryatid. Well, I ask you; this certainly sent everyone scurrying for their dictionaries/apps. So it was some gracious being who held up a temple rather than a garden vegetable as Lafayette had thought. Just wait till he tells her on the next Gatwick ramble and claims all this intellectual coolness for himself!
Back on the train to Brockenhurst where we had booked into Il Paglio for dinner. This was where, after a few bottles of wine, Philby had made friends with all the waiters and got the whole restaurant singing his crappy songs like ‘Yesterday’ and ‘Summertime.’
However Sandyballs found he couldn’t wait for dinner and went out on the scrounge for fish and chips as a sort of hors d’oeuvre. Just as Lafayette was remonstrating with him outside the chippy for his greed he noticed a real NF pony hanging about, obviously waiting for someone to buy it a bag of chips. Now Lafayette likes (other people’s) ponies because in the main they’re docile like cats and you can stroke them. Unfortunately some young girl had got in first and was cooing all the daft noises to the pony that Lafayette was preparing to do, so he stomped off in a strop not just at Sandyball’s greed but at the injustice of women always getting in first.
Dinner, very slow dinner, was at Il Paglio. God, the service was dire although the food when we got it was quite good. Trouble was, during the long wait we had all eaten ourselves stupid with bread, and in one particular case, with chips. Lafayette felt so stuffed he could hardly get through his lasagna, although Froggy didn’t seem to have much trouble eating the cockroaches in his risotto. The couple on the table opposite were quite obviously not married due to the amazing amount of attention they were paying to each other. Much better entertainment than Philby’s crappy songs!
Back at The Rose and Crown Sandyballs had very generously said he would share a room with Froggy to enable Lafayette and BT to talk about guns all night (We knew he just wanted to have a room in the posh annex, but his comeuppance was nigh). Anyway we all trolled of chez Frog & SB for brandy and ginger.
Trouble was nobody really liked the cheap brandy even when diluted, and the NERDS were all knackered anyway from the MINI ramble and the days drinking, so we all went back to our own rooms, talked about guns and crashed out.
Day 2 - The REAL Ramble.
Breakfast - always a tricky time in the Rose and Crown after Froggy’s outburst of pique last year when there were no beans on offer. He’d brought his own tin of beans with him this time (or at least a song to that effect) so that there would be no mistake. Sadly there were no hash browns for BT this year but he took it like a man and didn’t frighten the little waitress to death. Sandyballs was a bit pissed off at the lack of marmite, but simply activated the marmite app on his phone and harmony was shortly afterwards restored.
And so to the main ramble. Froggy led us through Brockenhust in the dull and rain threatening weather, over the ford and down the gloomy path by a stream. There to Lafayette’s delight were a couple of ponies busy chomping Tesco trollies in the stream. Lafayette approached them from side on; he remembered that the Bish had nearly had his face kicked in one year by creeping up behind one but these were friendly even though they had a lot of burrs stuck to them. Froggy remembered seeing an advert for a pony sale somewhere but we put him off this idea because there wasn’t really room in the car for all the NERDS and a pony, besides he might have tried eating Froggy’s jumper while he was driving.
Over the heath we went (a different heath) where there were lots of ponies standing around eating things. BT said they were pests and like the seagulls in Newhaven but Lafayette sprang to their defense and pointed out they didn’t actually squawk or shit on your car (unless you were really unlucky. There were people about actually sitting on (their own) ponies and meandering about aimlessly rather like Old Trouts in a pub. Indeed when we got to Dolder Ford Bridge we had a pause to let some ponified Old Trouts come over the bridge without stampeding. However one pony had a tantrum and refused to go over because apparently he was the alpha male and he hadn’t been given his beans for breakfast.
We got led through the woods although Froggy reckoned he was walking against his instincts (wot instincts? was he being led astray by wood nymphs or was someone trying to turn him into a lesbian?). Anyway we got deeper and deeper into the Forest and Sandyballs spoiled the atmosphere somewhat by asking pointedly what time we were due to get lost. Froggy claimed
(several times) that we couldn’t possibly get lost so we all felt happy about that then.
At 11.42 precisely we got lost. Don’t ask me how this happened since everything had been going swimmingly. We were just lost.
Froggy began to panic; Lafayette went off looking for more ponies to cuddle; BT amused himself by watching jackdaws rolling over pony turds in search of fresh spiders and Sandyballs decided to go off road (actually ‘on-road’;Ed.) to take the most direct route to the pub.
Froggy rallied his gut instinct (more of this particular type of instinct later) and we fudged our way through the interestingly boggy part of the Forest directly parallel to the road Sandyballs was presumably taking. We all hoped he was choking to death on the traffic fumes.
Finally we struck lucky and arrived at The Oak Inn where we crashed into the bar and met Sandyballs who had just got there and was ordering a pint. Sadly there was no Old Thumper so we had to drink the bog standard rubbish which was just as well because we could now tell each other our different tales. Sandyballs justified his lack of faith in our leader by saying he’d been picked up by four nymphomaniacs in a jeep and had just waved them off shortly before our arrival. We knew he was lying so told him that Froggy had unerringly led us to the pub without any navigational problems. Everybody’s nose stared to grow longer so we stopped this silly game and ordered lunch.
It was a bit cold and windy sitting outside but Lafayette hoovered up a big plate of scallops which cost him most of his lump sum, and the others ate various versions of heffalump pie with the heffalumps’ hair being separate from its guts - very strange!
After lunch we headed for Lyndhurst through more exciting bits of the Forest and fetched up at The Swan where Philby had taken some of his erstwhile photographs (1996, remember) and where Old Thumper was allegedly on sale. Sadly the latter was not true; the barmaid said the locals had formed a private club deep in the Forest where they went to swap wives for barrels of Old Thumper so that they could get well and truly pissed and incoherent without any undue interference. You could only join their club if you had a really cracking wife (like Susannah Reid)
And then they’d only give you half a pint if you weren’t local.
OK we’ll drink the rubbish. Apart from this the entire décor had changed. Gone was the comfy armchair where Bronco had sprawled so we stomped off outside and sat in the freezing cold for one pint only. We could just hear a faint cackling from overhead as if Philby were lurking and whispering ”Not long now for you, you bastards. You’ll be joining me soon.” We sat up, shivering and ran off down the road to another pub. NERDS don’t like haunted pubs!
Fortunately Lyndhurst itself seemed a much friendlier place with the Fox and Hounds right on the main street opposite the icecream shop. We sat and drank coffee (and cognac) here and Sandyballs had his second dump of the day. Then we had an icecream, then bought a Mazerati, then bought some sweets in an old fashioned sweety shop run by a little old bespectacled lady.
Since we had obviously walked for miles and miles again, this being the principal ramble, Froggy kindly said we could take the bus back even though it would cost him, and only him, an arm and a leg. At the bus stop Lafayette was chomping his way through a mega bag of toffees when he made a new friend. “My mom warned me about men like you.” said the nice, dark haired thirty five year old as she took another toffee but the rest of the NERDS dragged Lafayette away before he could get into real trouble. “Shame really,” thought Lafayette, “ I could have taken her into the Forest and swapped her for half a pint of Old Thumper.”
Back at the Rose and Crown we sat back in the beeyootiful garden again drinking gin and tonics while Froggy went inside with his crotchety gut complaint to outdo Sandyballs in the ‘how many dumps you can do in a day’ competition. Sandyballs was not fazed , he knew he could control his entrails at will while Froggy couldn’t, so he fiddled with his phone in a vain attempt to bring up the pole-dancing nuns which the NERDS had specially requested, but had to settle instead for frogs shagging mermaids on the X video app.
That night we had an Indian (meal) and, of course we had to go to the restaurant where Philby had rolled up pissed and disgraced us all. (NERDS never get pissed). Sandyballs had to go and get his usual bag of chips before the meal - this could start an interesting trend in restaurants “Hello, sir, would you like a glass of champagne or is it your usual bag of chips for starters? …..Hmm. Anyway by now we were so stuffed from the other excesses that chewing our way through chicken tikka buhna rogan ghosht vindaloo biriani was quite an effort. Froggy managed to do dumps 4 and 5 while we were there which beat Sandyballs just sitting there and thinking about going himself.
Current score at this time was SB - 2, Froggy - 5.
Later we sat in the garden again having been served by a barmaid who was a Bombay Sapphire (gin) addict, while Froggy sang his version of “She was only the pig keeper’s daughter, but she never wanted for owt.” ( I expect you can make up the rest yourselves). Round about now we realised that we were actually the next generation of Old Trouts who had the right to go into any pub slowly, bumble around and be indecisive. Time was marching on, you could still hear a faint cackling in the air above our heads - spooky!
Day 3 It’s a wrap
The day was bright and sunny; it always is when you’ve finished all the rambles. BT and Lafayette headed down for breakfast. Suddenly Sandyballs fell into the dining room ashen faced, haggard and with no socks. “You’ve got no socks on.” said a perspicacious Lafayette. “That’s because I stuffed them down Froggy’s throat last night to stop him snoring; I’ve been walking the streets since half past three trying to get the ringing out of my ears.” Then he keeled over into his cornflakes ‘bonk.’
Just then Froggy rocked up “Nice day what? Hope there’s beans for breakfast.” Sandyballs just groaned and slipped on to the floor. The rest of the NERDS just carried on buttering toast and stuff.
After a walk into the village in an abortive attempt to buy Sandyballs some more socks, (He drew the line at spending 30 guineas in some posh men’s clothing shop and said he’d rather freeze). We bade farewell to the Rose and Crown (our favourite pub with the beeyootiful garden) and set off back homewards to the strains of Froggy’s pan-lyrical compilation tape (Mongoloid and other gems.) Finally we ended up at the Black Rabbit in Arundel (we always do.) and sat outside in a freezing wind (poor Sandyballs, nosocks) and watched two seagulls having a fight over territory. We all agreed things didn’t get much better than this!
It had been a great three days and many thanks to Froggy for the driving, organisation, routes, impeccable guiding, snoring and dumping. It wouldn’t have been half as much fun without you!
We decided that it had all been so good it marked a turning point in our lives. We felt inspired and resolved to do the following:
Froggy: - 1) to conquer Hadrian’s Wall.
2) to find Jesus.
3) to get promoted.
BT : - 1) to become a green fairy
2) to write a novel in language so obscure nobody
can understand it and win the Man Booker prize.
Sandyballs - 1) to crawl on his knees to Vienna.
2) to recant and become Pope.
Lafayette - 1) to tidy his room and get a job.
That’s all, Folks!
Lafayette.
