Christmas Ramble 2012

NERDS’ Ramble No. 277 - 14/12/12.

Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Paco, Matt, The Captain, The Bish.

The Washout- Lewes- Christmas- Pubcrawl- Ramble.

Lafayette was having difficulty putting anything down about this “ramble” for two reasons:
1) We didn’t actually ramble very far.
2) Lafayette lost all his notes in the pub.

It’s sad but true that the demon drink can strike at any time and make things turn out not as they should do. Lafayette woke up the next day full of good intentions to get out the write-up a.s.a.p. because he knew that history is only written by the victors. Searching his coat pocket all he found was a load of crackers and shit put there by someone sitting next to him at the table ( I’ll get you for this next time, Matt), but no [legendry] contemporaneous yellow notes. So, struggling to remember what might have happened, Lafayette knew he would just have to make the whole thing up. He had never done this before but now that his back was to the wall Necessity dictated the NERDS’ future.

What might have happened that day.

The phone rang chez Lafayette. It was that Kate Middleton (again). “ Oi! Are you coming out rambling, just you and me, Babe, ‘cos Will’s pissed off darn the pub an’ I’m well cheesed orf, innit?” Lafayette was fed up being chased by posh women; only the other week some Mrs. Pitt had been harassing him, wanting him to take her to some film premier or other. He couldn’t go not only because he hadn’t been to the cash-point but he hadn’t got a dinner jacket and his hair was still wet from showering. All he really wanted to do was have a few drinks in Lewes with his mates with no women (apart from nice, sexy barmaids) - Rule No. 2.

Anyway slamming the phone down in disgust Lafayette legged it out of the house and on to the train. Thank God most of the NERDs were there, some were titting about doing family stuff  but the hardcore were there looking old and grey as usual. Lafayette wondered how many of them were rung up by exotic women trying to lure them away from Christmas rambles, and decided not a lot.

The luck of the NERDS had deserted everyone that day. The rain was sheeting down in sheets, more was forecast and going any distance, even round Lewes would be difficult. A plan B was needed. Better consult Sandyballs whose ramble it was. However Sandyballs when met was in a state of drunken euphoria; he had just won the lottery and bought his No. 1 daughter a new baby from a Romanian gypsy. “ Never mind all this grandad stuff.” said Lafayette. “ What are we going to do about this foul weather?” “ How about we go to a pub?” grinned S.B. ever practical; so that’s what we did.

Lucky it is that the Brewers ( for ‘twas she) opens her doors at 10 00hrs and that S.B. has a certain amount of influence there and they were still selling Bonfire Boy (strong drink for Guy Fawkes Night). S.B. and Laf. had just got settled in front of a couple pints of this when Paco suddenly dropped the bombshell that he had actually booked his sister’s gaff in Spain for the first week in May to celebrate NERDS’ 25th! (B.T. this will be from 7th to 11th May next year, for info). So a committee meeting was convened in the front bar of the Brewers.

“Who shall we invite?” opened Lafayette. “I should like to get that Nelson Mandela and his mate Obama because they won’t be doing much then and they might be able to buy us a drink.” “ No,” countered S.B.  “Let’s get the Pope who can share with Matt and General Franco who can discuss politics with Paco.” “Isn’t he dead ?” asked Froggy. “I thought he got taken out in Pakistan by the Americans.”

Things were falling apart, the Bonfire Boy was wreaking havoc.” maybe we’d better just invite the usual suspects,” said S.B. sadly “ You know what it’s like when anybody new comes.” And so it was that the guest list was drawn up, and surprise, surprise they turned out to be all NERDS. “What shall we do now, then?” said Lafayette. “ I know,” said S.B. “ Lets go to another pub,Yeah!” Drink and Romanian babies had obviously gone to his head.

And so we went off down the road until we came to a very nice looking, new pub which was called The Rite of Spring, and owned by a bloke called Stravinsky who worked for Harveys. Battering our way in (because it wasn’t quite opening time there, were saw a delightful blonde barmaid called Natasha and a lot of rough looking builders who were beating a hasty retreat out the back. This place was certainly a step up from the shitty dive it had been a few weeks back. There were no teenagers, no noisy music, no poncy drinks out of bottles with bits of lime stuck in the neck, just lots of Harvey’s type beer (all the good, old weird ones) and lots of quiet, private, snuggy places where you could do unmentionable things to your companion, depending on who they were, or else just have an uninterrupted drink.

Wow! Good stuff. Natasha said she had got Harvey’s Christmas Ale on so we opted for halves of this. Christmas Ale is even worse than Bonfire Boy and is about 42 per cent proof. They won’t sell it to you in pints just in case you get drunk and lose your notes somewhere. So no chance of that for Lafayette as he was being exceptionally careful to record everything truthfully. After one drink of the aforementioned Christmas Ale S.B. told Lafayette he was in love. Laf got a bit scared, he knew he and S.B. had known each other for forty years, but honestly….” No, not you, you twat,” breathed S.B. drunkenly, The barmaid, Natasha; I think she’s the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” “ Oh dear,” thought Lafayette. “ Time to move; I don’t want to have to explain this away to anyone.”

Quick march for everyone out of The Rite and through a very wet and sodden Lewes towards lunch at the Dorset. There we found The Captain who had just arrived and was sneaking a quick drink in before the NERDS found him out. The Bish was there too (always around where there’s food) and so we settled down to our Christmas dinner. This turned out to be a good spread and many bottles of Rioja were consumed in practice for going to Spain. Glasses were raised to another organisation called the c***s who usually met in Seaford, and it was decided not to amalgamate with them because of their boring cast list. Sandyballs proudly showed off his medal which he’d got off Usain Bolt for “delivering the Olympics” although the medal didn’t say where to, or to whom. Still it showed that the Home Office still had money to burn on trivia and as ever had their priorities spot on.

After dinner Lafayette looked round in vain for the Dorset cat which he had slung at Sandyballs last month - see Ramble No.276. No sign. Maybe he’d just got the hump and not turned up, or else perhaps he’d been incorporated into the Christmas dinner for trespassing (stranger things have been known). So the hardcore NERDS took themselves off for another drink at The John Harvey where Lafayette was insulted by the (ugly, middle-aged) barmaid who insisted on spelling out for him the fact that Christmas Ale was served with a health warning, and wouldn’t accept he knew this already. (Stupid cow!). Anyway the afternoon drifted on until the NERDS, happy and replete, drifted home themselves.

It had been a good day with lots of rambling and fabulous weather (not). Thanks to all those who participated and to Sandyballs who made the arrangements. At last, thanks to Paco, we’ve got the Spanish trip underway so let’s hope they haven’t made a cock-up over Froggy’s leaving date, or that he decides to get an extension and work on for a few years.

Happy Christmas, All You NERDS.       Lafayette.

Joining Instructions 2012 Christmas Ramble

Dear NERDS,

The much anticipated Christmas Ramble takes place, as you know, on Friday 14th - changed to accommodate Matt's holiday plans. As some kind of recompense, Matt has agreed to show us his allover Carribean tan!

We are dining at The Dorset Inn at the slightly earlier time of 12.30 - some of you have to cross my palm with the £5 deposit on the day. Travel arrangements are as follows: the usual 09.58/ 10.05 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town to Lewes. I will meet you outside the station at about 10.15. The route will be a mostly tarmac walk through the highways and byways of our county town. So no need for heavy boots and thus we will avoid any moans about removing the aforementioned footwear items before entering the hostelry.

Bizarre headgear, badges, outlandish clothing - all are optional. Just bring plenty of money and a sense of fun.

SB

November 2012 Ramble

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Advance Date for Christmas Ramble

To accommodate the lifestyle of our Religious Advisor, the date of the Xmas ramble has been changed to Friday 14th. More discussions on this at this week's ramble. If you cannot make it this Wednesday I will be in email contact.   (Or check the Blog).

SB

November Ramble Joining Instructions

Dear All,

This month we walk ( or "march" as they say in Lewes Bonfire Societies) on Wednesday 14th. We are going to reprise a walk we did a year or so ago, starting at The Laughing Fish in Isfield and lunching at The Anchor in Barcombe. If you are all on best behaviour we can have a pre-ramble pint at The Fish.

So, the usual 10.25/ 10.32 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town and I will meet you at Lewes station. From there we will proceed to the centre of town and take the 29 bus to Isfield. If numbers are low ( we will have no Matt) I may drive. Flexibility as always.

Subjects to discuss this time: 1. The Xmas ramble. As I write the actual date is in some doubt - thanks to Matt! 2. The 25th Anniversary Rambles in Spain.

Don't forget the sun tan cream.

SB

October 2012 Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No 275. 23rd Oct 2012.

Those Present - El Paco, Froggy, Lafayette, Sandyballs,
The Bish.

La Chasse aux Milfs.

We were honoured today by a special visit from The Bish. Apparently Mrs Bish had been so fed up with his kicking around the house after retiring some ten years previously that she had stopped feeding him in order to force him out from under her feet. Poor Bish had contracted a horrible disease called starvation and was reduced to actually coming out and buying a meal in a pub with the NERDS. Moreover, when quizzed on the oral test for NERDS’ re-entry, he completely failed to give the correct definition of a Milf, even going so far as to admit he had never even heard of the term. This would not do! And so the NERDS resolved to chase up a few(Milfs) to broaden poor Bish’s education.

The ramble began at Vick’s on Lewes station ( except that Vic wasn’t there any more) where everyone followed Lafayette’s sophisticated choice of aperitif by buying mocha coffee ( good for the brain, doncha know.)
Matt wasn’t with us because he had workmen in and he didn’t want them rifling through his knicker drawer in his absence. The NERDS all know that’s where he keeps his porn stash - we know- we’ve already been through his drawer when he thought we were all safely in his garden sipping tea.

So after a Viccy coffee (careful now, you might raise Philby!) we got on the train to Berwick to check out Milf Central (Berwick Arms). Unfortunately the half way passable Milf from our previous visit had scarpered and sold the Milf Rights to a scruffy fat one with noisy kids and a barman who couldn’t organise a piss-up in a …well, a pub.The running of the place was a complete shambles. The NERDS were not impressed. We even considered taking it completely off the Milf Register so bad was the service and the (non existent) glamour. Better go out and ramble.

Just in case it were to rain (not unlikely) and mindful of his drenching a few rambles ago, Paco had geared himself up in a swish garment with a hood which one of his relatives had purloined from L’Armee Francaise (please excuse lack of accents, cedillas etc). Paco was just now worried about a possible knock on his door at 4 o’clock in the morning followed by early rendition and consignment to a French jail pending forced conscription into La Legion Etrangere (sorry about the accents). “Don’t worry,” Lafayette assured him, “ I tried to get into La Legion once after after a dodgy crossing over to Dieppe when I felt I just couldn’t stand it all any more
(sob). The Bastards said I was too old, couldn’t speak French properly and needed to be of sound mental state.
I even offered to go on their psychopath course which
Hungerford had just completed, but no go. So I’m sure they won’t come after you just for nicking a crappy old anorak.” Paco felt better.

Over the fields we went; the weather was dull but OK; Froggy told us how his statins pills gave him wildly erotic dreams about Milfs which he couldn’t control. Half of us were disgusted at this revelation while the other half wanted a copy of his prescription so that we could try out these dreams. Sandyballs said it wasn’t as much fun when you had a doctor sticking his finger up your bum even if he had told him to relax and pretend it was a Milf doing it.

We weaved over more fields, nice fields but all very sort of expansive and uniform. We were heading in the direction of Selmeston and hoping to get to the Lamb at Ripe in time for lunch. ( That’s “dinner” in northern parlance, by the way). The sun came out; Sussex looked lovely and rural; we got a bit lost. New direction was taken from a man with a drill ( Yes, you may well ask!)
But he guided us to the next right field and we were OK.

Over more fields, over lotsa fields through a farm  then more lotsa fields until we started to wilt at the vast distances involved. Didn’t Sandyballs know we were all sad old bastards now who just wanted to oggle at Milfs and have a nice lunch?  A discussion ensued as to whether Carol ( Weather Girl; do keep up) was a Milf. Some said she couldn’t be because she had no kids. Some said this was irrelevant and the other bit of the acronym was more important. Sandyballs who followed her Twitter account was asked to decide. “ She’s definitely a Milf. “ he opined. “ She has a cracking body and fantastic legs - and a nice smile… and er she can read the weather OK.” So now we knew.

We looked over the fields and saw many cows …but no Milfmaids. Paco said his cat was a Gilf because it was 21yrs old, but we feared he hadn’t quite grasped the concept of all this yet. Tony seemed to be catching on but unfortunately, where we were there was nary a Milf to be found.

Even in the pub - The Lamb at Ripe - there was not a lot of totty. The pub exuded an atmosphere of  slight hostility to foreigners. You know the way in films where the foreigners enter a pub and all conversation ceases while the locals size them up as potential sacrifices and Xmas Dinners? Well this pub wasn’t like that. There was one bloke sitting at the bar reading a paper upside down and no sign of the barman. We were ignored. Finally some callow youth came out of somewhere and served us some drinks. The local ran off to learn to read somewhere and left the pub to our depradations.

Finally a kindly, oldish lady (definitely a Ginlf) came and served us quite a good meal with suitably obsequious service, and told us how her daughter had made the fairy cakes on the table.”I wouldn’t eat them, though, if I were you,” she said. “They’re magic cakes which give you dirty dreams about peculiar sort of ladies whose name I can’t pronounce. She’s actually a witch who lives in the New Forest with her black and white pigs. Some say she was recently crossed in love by some bloke with a blue cashmere sweater, and now spreads magic cakes around all the pubs in Sussex trying to lure him back.” Lafayette gulped a bit and tried to hide his jumper.

After dinner Sandyballs took us to some old bloke’s grave ( Michael Lewery, I think he said.) then we started off back . This was when all our dreams came true . Today was a Milf holiday and they were everywhere.
We saw Milfs in Mercs, Milfs pushing prams, Milfs on bikes, Milfs up trees, Milfs in tall towers with long, braided hair, and because it was a small village and because they all thought NERDS were adorable we saw them over and over again. Giggling and flirting they were, waving their hands giving us all the come-on. Lafayette began to realise somebody had eaten one of the magic cakes and was infecting us all with their statinny fantasies. Round the corner we went and there appeared the same Milfs a beckoning and a luring us towards their Milfy charms. “Right, that’s it, I can’t cope with this any more.” screamed Lafayette. “I’m off to join the Foreign Legion and become a psycho like Hungerford.”

So who had eaten the magic cakes? Nobody owned up but they all knew that Lafayette was a greedy bastard and put it down to him.

Walking home was a bit of an anticlimax after all this Milfery, and we managed to miss the train and had to end up back in Milf Central whiling away the time bemoaning the fact that the Milf standard in Berwick had plunged. No matter, after a couple of brandies even Paco’s cat might have got stroked (or had a stroke if unlucky) and we managed to make a bit of progress re the arrangements for the Spring-Bonanza-chez-Paco’s-Sister-in-Spain for the 25 years NERDS Fiesta ( if you’re still with me, folks).

So, a good ramble with lotsa walking and tons’a Milfs.
Well done Sandyballs for guiding us to the Magic Village, and we hope both Paco and the Bish are now a bit more enlightened.

Au revoir, mes soldats. Vivent les NERDS!

Lafayette.

Future Diary Dates

Future Diary dates


Lafayette and myself have set the ramble dates for November and December.This had been done to comply with Froggy's onerous shift patterns (not as onerous as Gatwick South though). As tradition, both days are Wednesdays: 14/11 & 5/12. Get your objections in now....

Don't forget next week's ramble (24/10) when it is hoped we can start to make further plans for next year's 25th anniversary celebrations.

Sandyballs

October Joining Instructions

This month we don our lederhosen, slap each other's knees and do a bit of walking on Wednesday 24th. Our lunch destination is the Lamb at Ripe. Partipants will need to purchase a return ticket to good old Berwick. Seaford/ Newhaven types can take the 10.25/ 10.32 to Lewes and we convene at the Runaway Cafe.

We can perhaps take a look at Milf Central and see who is running it this week, what their opening hours are, what beer they serve (hopefully Green King) and, most importantly, what their current Milf is like. Also, we can possibly call in at the Yew Tree at Chalvington on the way back to the station?

As ever, flexibilty is key.

See some of you next week.

SB

September Rye Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No. 274. 10-11/9/12.

Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, BT

Day one - Four Fat Bastards en route.

Everyone had been to Rye before. We knew it was full of pubs and restaurants; we knew it had cobbly streets like Lewes and Ludlow, and we knew that the natives were friendly and spoke a similar East Sussex dialect to Nerdish. Sandyballs had been down on a reccy and bought a book of ‘Walks and what to do when you’re knackered and stop walking.’ And so began this Autumn’s trip in search of Milfs, Yummy Mummies and Booze.

BT had kindly said he would drive and had been preparing himself chez Lafayette by ingesting large quantities of Ricard, red wine and calvados - just to get himself in the mood. Lafayette had not been too far behind. They were both pretending they were in France again. Anyway, the NERDS picked up Froggy, stuffed him in the back of the car and proceeded to Rye where the weather looked promising for a couple of days’ debauchery (and rambling).

The NERDS checked in at The Old Borough Arms where Laf and Sandy, who wanted to be together (true lurv), insisted that BT shared a room with Froggy (mainly for cultural and social reasons which became clear to BT later on.) Then it was out to hit the lunch spots of Rye in the incessant search for chips which was to characterise Sandyballs’ raison d’etre for the next couple of days.

But first a little aperitif. Lafayette chose the Pipemakers’ Arms just up the road for this. It was a big, crappy, unsophisticated, pub with a blousy barmaid called Beth and lots of lovely IPA Greene King beer. It also had a fabulous, large games room where you could play darts (of course), pool (boring), Hunt the Goblin (tricky) and Shag the Barmaid (unlikely). So in we piled in and ordered beer.

BT started to get all boring about how sophisticated life was in France these days until we pointed out that apart from the wine, the climate, the food, the sexy women, the aqueducts, the Napoleonic Code, the Revolution, the-making-Froggy-into-a-man-through-military-service etc, what had the French ever done for us? So BT was required to sit in the Wrinkly Club Corner where he kept muttering that he could see Pyrenean Desmonds lurking in all the dark corners waiting to nibble his toes. ( Too much pastis!)
Sandyballs was enjoying the beer so much here that we swore we’d take him back a few more times so that he could really enjoy himself.

So then we approached the Inkerman Arms down at Rye Harbour and as we sat in the garden, joy of joys, we discovered an abandoned plate of fish and chips which Sandyballs managed to collar just seconds before  a nosy dog tried to scoff the lot. This made for a very pleasant amuse-gueule type of entrée (what did the French ever do for us?) before the dinner proper - which was okay(ish).


At this stage Froggy kept making strange noises and trying to jump into the pool in the garden. The beer had turned his brain, bless his little cotton socks, and he thought he had turned into a Werefrog that preys on barmaids and other stick insects (alcohol kicking in here). A discussion ensued about whether a rice pudding has a central nervous system and whether they knew you were eating them. Did they make a silent scream of pain just before the last mouthful? Makes you think, doesn’t it?

Better go for a ramble now otherwise madness will ensue. So we headed out vaguely in the direction of a nature reserve and saw lots of stones and people who said you’re going the wrong way, why don’t you go this way, and the sea was nice and the weather was sunny and we were having a good time and this was why we were here.

We trespassed our way through a farm yard where a little dog yapped at us so we told it to fuck off, then we sort of headed back to Rye and decided to get a bus back from the harbour. But first an icecream. Hooray! A mini-mart which sold Magnums (Magna?) so we all had different sorts. The Chilean hot pepper and spinach one was nice but the Minty toe nail and fried egg one was better.
The local native girl behind the till had a bus time table and told us the next bus was in forty minutes.
Bugger! That meant waiting even longer in the bus shelter listening to Froggy’s jokes; better have another Magnum each and then try to decide which bus to push him under. And so we did. (Another Magnum, not the bus hit-job) and finally got back to Rye about tea time.

Since Sandyballs had had such a good time in the Pipemakers and because the beer there was so special we decided to revisit the place. Unfortunately poor Sandyballs said he had to go back to his room to wash his hair before going out that evening so we said we’d bring him a pint back to console him and Froggo, Laf and BT all disappeared inside to play darts and drink er…gin.
The darts area was vast and we started to play some game Froggy used to play at school to lose all his dinner money with. He had been such a consistent loser at this that he had been turfed out of school and had to earn a living as a famous author - Have you ever heard of The Milf on The Floss? No, I thought not.

Back to the guest house to find that Sandyballs had finished drying his hair and had gone out in search of more chips to top up his system, Oh, and to buy a bottle of Spanish brandy to help him sleep and deaden the anti-social sounds which he knew would come from under Lafayette’s duvet (Aint lurv grand!).

But first there was din dins to get through. Somehow, the NERDS ended up in yet another pub - The Ypres something or other… which had large cannon in its courtyard levelled against the potentially invading French who had never done anything for us. Just as the bright and constant conversation coming from Froggy was spurring Sandyballs and BT to tie him over the mouth of one of these weapons to send him back to the land of his mother, Lafayette who had gone in to fetch a round came out and told of his latest adventure. Apparently he had met a woman called “Pat The Bus” (Don’t ask me) who was going to have all her teeth out the next day and who was spending her last toothy hours getting pissed and eating cream cakes. Lafayette had thought that’s probably what he would have done in the same circumstances and had joined her. Whereupon some Brasilian barman whom he had completely overlooked, had come over and had poured Lafayette a glass of very respectable Rioja - free! Being a nice kind of guy, Laf. Had gone out to share this info with his chums who (reluctantly) undid Froggy and herded into the pub in search of free Rioja and cake. Sadly all the Rioja had gone (Shame on you, Lafayette)  but there were lots of sweety, sweety cakes left which the Pat The Bus type woman said we could have a few of. Which we did, and didn’t notice the Brasilian barman sneaking out of the door and making a run for it. Oh well, told you the natives were friendly, and at least we still had teeth!

Dinner was at some Italian restaurant or other where the food was crap but the house wine was OK so Sandyballs got some chips on the way home and was happy. NERDS then piled into BT and Froggy’s room where the ChipMonster dished out brandy from his bottle of Fundador (very generous) and where we all watched something on telly and then went back and slept. - at least, some of us did.

Day Two - Winchelsea, The Ship and Porky Scratchings.

Dawn broke; Sandyballs was up with his usual insomnia and was watching Jeremy Kyle on the box. Down to breakfast. Froggy had had a good night’s sleep and had a grin on his face; BT looked hollow eyed and haggard. He’d discovered the deathly secret which the other NERDS had been keeping from him, ie. The appalling, non-stop, universe-shaking, awful, once heard never to be forgotten, snoring which always came from Froggy’s side of the room if you let it. And let it you have to. There was no remedy (apart from death) and there was no stopping it because you always ran out of things to throw at him and he never woke up anyway. You could kick him, punch him, smother him with quilts, smother him with custard even, it was none of it any use. You just had to doze within the very rare quiet bits. And so BT realised he’d been stitched up and Froggy lost yet another sleeping companion.

After another low cal breakfast of bacon, eggs, even beans for some, the NERDS visited the local souvenir shop because Sandyballs had lost his map
- for rambling. So now we knew where we were and where we were going (ha, ha). We set off towards Winchelsea where there was rumoured to be a pub. BT was pissed off at being stitched up.
(Can you actually be both at the same time?) and reckoned that SB never actually used a map and mimed all the rambles which he set. BT getting a bit obscure and surreal here; probably due to gross lack of sleep and absence of red wine in system. Needs more chips according to SB.

NERDS follow The Royal Military Canal (built to prevent the French etc. etc. who never did anything
etc. etc.) until we reach a point where there was a giant beehive thingy which, of course, Froggy has to stick his head through. If there was a cliff, he’d jump off it; if there was a cotton sock, he’d bless it. And so yet again escaping death by inches from rabid, cross bees, the NERDS carefully picked their way through the, what seemed like, knee deep sheep shit over the fens and things. Destination was The New Inn at Winchelsea for which Sandyballs had had the foresight to obtain a menu.

It was a big, big climb into Winchelsea which is a pretty little village unused to NERDS’enthusiasm. Very quiet, very restrained very poshe. Here the beer was absolutely fabulous and we sat in a secret garden chugging away and gradually realising that there was nobody eating there because the food was very mega expensive. Now we didn’t exactly have a quarrel next; it just so happened that every body outvoted Lafayette on moving on. Laf. had become warm and comfortable in the Secret Garden and was enjoying the beer so much (as was Sandyballs secretly) that he just didn’t want to move. Froggy was wavering, but seeing a hollow tree just had to get up and hide within it. (See what I mean?) so since somebody had got up we all moved on.

We must have walked for miles and miles and miles; the only saving grace was that we didn’t take any short-cuts so we didn’t get lost. Finally we ended up at The Ship after SB had phoned them up and ascertained they had some sort of menu which included chips.Sounded OK.

Now The Ship was, how shall I put this, sort of … different. It was done out in 30s film star style like an ocean liner and was obviously trying to make you feel as if once inside you were going on a luxury cruise. The impression of utter plushness was somewhat spoiled by the nautical beer called “Frigging in the Rigging.” Imagine yelling an order for that across a poop deck full of elegantly coiffed ladies and smooth gents in dinner jackets! However the cruise customers had not yet arrived so we were not to embarrass ourselves too much.

The barmaids were pleasant and friendly. (All barmaids are pleasant, friendly, good looking, sexy and want to be your friend after a couple of pints).
Lafayette had had a couple of pints. The barmaid was about twenty, ie. about forty five years younger than Lafayette. So he tried his bestest chat-up line on her. “ Have you ever drunk calvados?” enquired Lafayette.” No,” simpered Laura (for such was her name.) evidently completely overawed by the smoothness and sophisticated taste of the good looking middle aged man in front of her. “ Would you like to try it?” persisted Lafayette. “ Ooh, yes, please, I’ll try anything once,” simpered Laura again. Unfortunately this touching seduction scene was somewhat ruined by someone from among the NERDS who loudly yelled “Supplement!” and broke the charming spell which Lafayette had sought to weave. Lafayette returned to the NERDS grinding his teeth and vowed to snore so heavily in bed that night that Sandyballs would have to seek refuge in Froggy’s room just to escape the din he planned to make in revenge.

After a reasonable lunch we missed the bus back to Rye because Froggy was doing something secret in the bog. Unperturbed, the NERDS shrugged their collective shoulders and set off along the long straight road and back across the fens. All of a sudden we came across a load of black and white pigs in a field and a notice saying don’t feed the buggers ‘cos they get fat, especially if you give them Magnums. BT did his famous “Piggy, piggy, piggy,” call and they all came hareing over expecting to be fed Magnums. “Tough!” said the NERDS, “You’ll get too fat and then someone will carve you up for a pub breakfast.” But they liked being scratched and coddled and talked to, and Lafayette gradually started to transfer his affections to these intelligent, goodlooking, sexy (careful now!) beasts. BT could see that Lafayette was falling in love again so he promised he’d buy him a miniature piggy for Christmas. It was either that or a pig tree ( Lafayette thinks that’s what he said - there was one in the Secret Garden at Winchelsea) so that he could grow his own.

The NERDS rambled back to Rye and decided to have a g & t in The Mermaid. This is the place to be seen in Rye and so we sat outside under an American flag at half mast. Lots of what Froggy called “Septics” were obviously staying there and mourning the loss of their Twin Towers. Then to Ypres Castle Pub again only to find that Pat the Bus had not come back yet nor had the supplies of Rioja been replenished. So we sat and drank some fantastic beer (Sandyballs was almost getting boring in his continual and fulsome praise of Green King IPA stuff,) and admired the publican’s shapely daughter and her shapely blonde mate. Lafayette was no longer interested in girlies; his head had been turned by pretty black and white piggies; he would have to teach them to drink calvados.

Dinner was at the Gandhi Indian restaurant where Lafayette enjoyed his meal but the others didn’t. Maybe everyone was getting a bit jaded by now so Lafayette dragged everyone back to his favourite pub of all, The Pipemakers where the beer tasted out of this world  and where this time we drank brandy and watched England fail to beat Ukraine in some footy match or other.

Back to the guest house where the NERDS occupied BT and FG’s room once again and promised Froggy that if snoring was introduced as an exhibition sport at the Olympics in Rio we’d all go over there to cheer him on. Sadly he’d probably still be working by then so that he wouldn’t be able to get the leave to attend. And so to bed.

Day 3 - Homeward Bound

After the usual gargantuan breakfast we went shopping for souvenirs to pacify those loved-ones we had left behind. Lafayette bought a quite superb set of placemats in red featuring interesting bits of Rye (like all the pubs) and was really disappointed when the other NERDS told him they were actually blue (Oh dear!). Sandyballs bought a nice postcard for his wife telling her to cook more chips for him because they were healthy and contained no calories - like white wine - such a loving gesture.

Finally we drove to Hastings because we were hungry and needed fish and chips. The propaganda
was quietly taking over the minds of all the NERDS. Lafayette took everyone to a pub he knew called First In Last Out (FILO) and there we sampled beer flavoured with ginger from a small brewery up the road. The beer was called Old Town Tom and was made from recycled prostitutes. Sandyballs thought this was absolutely terrific; in fact he said there had not been a single beer on this trip which he had not really, really enjoyed, especially the Greene King stuff. We shall have to go back!

And so another NERDS expedition came to a weary end. Thanks be to BT for driving and losing all his sleep. Thanks to Sandyballs for the rambles  and to Froggy for his snoring and non-stop jokey humour. And thanks to both photographers for the topless photos of the pigs and the Princess of Cambridge. Lafayette looks forward to seeing them all on the blog.

Joining Instructions for September 2012 Rye Ramble.

Dear NERDS,

Joining instructions for Rye are as follows:  B.T. has graciously said he will drive and is coming to Lafayette's house on Saturday to drink all his calvados (not).

Sandyballs will come chez Lafayette on Monday about 8 00hrs bringing breakfast (more calvados)

We shall then proceed chez Froggy and pick him up at 10 00hrs approx.

We shall then go to Rye, fall out, quarrel a lot and generally have a good time.

Should be good.

Lafayette.

August's Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No 273 - 16th Aug 2012 Those Present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Lafayette, Muscles Matt and Dumpy Dwyer. Beachy Head Ramble. Today we were graced with the presence of My Mate (Lafayette’s mate) Dumpy Dwyer. Since the Foreign Office had dispensed with his services some time ago he had joined the Ecuadorian Embassy as an advisor on how to make money out of the continued presence of Julian Assange there. Dumpy’s idea was to grant Ecuadorian citizenship to Assange, marry him off to the President’s daughter, thereby giving him diplomatic status, and then charge tourists lots of money to go to Ecuador to ogle at the latest national hero/dictator elect. (All for a cut of the profits, and the franchise for renting out rooms in the Ec. Embassy, of course). Apart from our exotic guest we had the usual bunch of trouble makers sans Paco who was preparing to go on holiday to Italy, and was practising not getting out of bed until the afternoon. Froggy had kindly said he would host the aperitifs so we all met up round the back of his garden shed to discuss his plan of action (lol). The weather was warm and balmy, as were the NERDS, and we were on the point of finishing Froggy’s Irish whiskey when up rolled a somewhat jaded Sandyballs. The previous evening shift at Gatwick had not ended until late, and sadly Sandy balls had been dragged down the airside bar by hordes of bored girlie I.O.s who had been fascinated by his old age and wealth of experience. “ So how come you’re not retired since you’re so old?” one of them asked “ We’ve got to go on till we’re 87 and you must be at least as old as that.” said another. “ Hey is Ecuador in the E.U. or is it in Africa? “ asked a third. “ My mom says you lot used to get pissed going across the Channel three times a week. What was all that about? Did you ever shag any French birds? Do you want to shag me? Can you really still get it up at your age?” The questions went on and on and on until Sandyballs managed to escape and grab a couple of hours sleep before blearily getting into Froggy’s garden and demanding whiskey. But to the ramble - which naturally began with a trip to the bus stop near Froggy’s. Matt nearly got picked up by some bit of skirt who wanted to take his photo and touch his body, but fortunately the 13X bus came along and he managed to shake her off. It looked as if all the Old Trouts in the whole world were on this bus going to Eastbourne so we lumbered through picturesque Sussex villages until Froggy thought we would get off at Birling Gap. We popped inside the Birling Gap Hotel to get a beer and sit outside. It was warm and sunny, the Harveys was slipping down well; we had another pint; all seemed well with the world. Wonder what’s for lunch. Suddenly Froggy got all masterful and gave us 16 different options for violent action. “Fuck off, Froggy”. Still, wonder what’s for lunch. But the jaded Sandyballs pricked our consciences. “ Must ramble,” he slurred. So reluctantly, and leaving the sunny pub table behind, we walked up the truly daunting hill for about a hundred metres[that’s 330feet in old measurements] then gasped to a stop so that Froggy could take a photo. Just then a Japanese couple came along and said “ Dantay Desco? Ichi Nichi?” which means “ One with you in it?” so we acquiesced and Matt took a photo of them taking a photo of us and everyone smiled and was happy. The ramble, when it got going ,was over Beachy Head (landside, of course) where more Old Gits took photos of us (NERDS are famous, you know!) then up down, up down to The Beachy Head Pub where we settled down in the sun and wondered what was for lunch. While waiting for the appropriate table, Matt spun us fairy stories about what the cords did when they got together. This seemed to consist of boring each other to death, or else making out that they had won the Falklands war by sinking The Belgrano ( You know who I mean). Sandyballs reckoned he’d rather be at Gatwick in the company of admiring young girlies, and Matt said he was obviously a lost cord who needed taking in hand. We ordered another waitress because ours was going to “Uni” and was frightfully posh. The food was good, the drink was good. Wonder what’s for tea. Maybe an icecream, let’s go over to the van and see where the foreign icecream girlie comes from (Lithuania. I kid you not; they’ll take anyone these days as long as they hate the Russians and can sell icecream.) We went up and down, and up and down lots of times and saw someone with an ‘arse’ the size of Wales ( - Froggy’s joke.) and then downwards to the Pilot pub which had had a refurb and served us coffee cognacs in the back yard. Still wonder what’s for tea. On , on we went. One of Froggy’s “I’m not quite sure where we are but if we wander around for hours I’m sure we’ll get to somewhere” rambles. Eventually, somewhere round the posh part of Eastbourne ( all retirement homes and white people) we came to a bus stop where Sandyballs was adamant the number 12 bus went back to wherever home was. Everyone else knew this was not the case as the stop failed to mention number 12 or any other bus except some totally inappropriate tourist bus that only Matt wanted to get on to go upstairs and feel the wind rushing through his hair. A quarrel ensued ( not unusual after lunch ) Lafayette and Dumpy ignored all this shit and carried on walking into the centre of Eastbourne. Smart move. Wonder what’s for tea. Finally NERDS get a bus back homewards and fall asleep on the top deck. Well, at least Sandyballs did, worn out with all the quarrelling and the sexual tension at Gatwick, ‘sans doute’. Afterwards tea seemed to be destined for Gino’s so God knows what happened after that as the NERDS all split up and diasporised cursing each other. Another good ramble then. Thanks to Froggy for the Irish whiskey and the Up and Down, up and down; and thanks again to Froggy for the fantastic photos. We hope Dumpy’s fair skin didn’t suffer too much from the hot sun, and that Sandyballs manages to get some sleep in his arduous quest to show he’s always the first one out on to the control at Gatwick. Next month is Rye. Bring a lot of money and be prepared for lots of quarrels. See you there. Lafayette.

August joining suggestions by Froggy

Lovely Nerds!   As our glorious route master is currently up to the knot on his clip-on tie with olympic-proportioned shenanigans at Gatwick, I thought that I'd offer him some respite from the additional rigours of planning a ramble and offer you Nerds hospitality chez moi, followed by a crunch and munch (actually "quaff and scoff") somewhere near Seaford.   If all willing and /or able participants could make it to Sandore Road between, say 09:30 and 09:45, this should allow enough time for generous refreshments prior to catching a bus from Newlands Corner (don't forget your passes, [aged parents]) towards Eastbourne. Whether it will be a tried-and-tested route or something new or a combination of both remains to be seen, but I'm working on it during the lashings of downtime that is wonderfully synonymous with Newhaven but, alas where such lack of staff commands one into seeing foot pax, lorry drivers and car pax all together in one movement - ah! If only I were at Gatwick....? (heaven forfend!!)   For those of us going to Rye, here is what would be the train stuff:- Off peak return from Seaford/Newhaven £24.00 and from Lewes £21.00. Probably the 09:58/10:05 from Seaford/Newhaven and the 10:44 from Lewes, allowing a full ½ hour in Vic's. The price has taken me somewhat aback, so maybe it will have to be a car after all, but baggsy I don't have to drive?   Finally, I hope that you will all join me in wishing dear old Malcy Baby a very happy 64th on Friday and since Crunchie is back where he belongs, I can feel another repeat local ramble coming soon with lunch at the Flying Fish (though Madison's lot (see previous ramble scribblings) have sold up the burger van near to the stables) and a meet up with the Birthday Boy?   See yous next week   Frog One

July's Ramble!

NERDS’ Ramble No 272. Wed. 11/7/12. Those Present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Paco, Lafayette. The Wrath of God Ramble. This ramble started off in a fairly downbeat way - like we all went to Sandyballs’ house and hoovered up his drink and choccy biscuits; and listened to his tales of how wonderful it was to be back actually working at an airport again (albeit Luton). Those of us who were retired ( Paco and Lafayette ) hung on to his every word and wished we had not been so foolish as to take our pensions at only 60 as we had nothing to do now and were really bored. Froggy, meanwhile, was so enthralled by S.B.’s exciting accounts of refusing entry to whole flight loads of real Nigerians and jumping up and taking a terrorist bullet meant for the girly Floor CIO that he resolved to request an immediate transfer to Luton and work there until he was 65 - life there seemed so exciting! However before naked ambition took too great a hold on us Sandyballs made us all get our boots on and kicked us into the great outdoors. The weather looked a bit iffy and rain was in the air. Thank goodness Paco had packed all his wet weather gear otherwise he might have got wet! The NERDS set off along S.B.’s favourite cycle route towards the Anchor at Barcombe where we were due to take lunch. The traffic was awful and whizzed closely past us making Froggy’s bright conversation about work nigh on impossible to hear. Finally we fought our way off the road into a country lane and tried to enjoy the rural scenery. Only it seemed to be getting darker. The clouds were gathering in the west; ominous rumblings were heard coming nearer and then a powerful and fear inducing voice spoke to us from Up Above. “ You NERDS are all miserable sinners,” thus it spake. “ My wrath shall be upon you for the detestable verminous lifestyle ye all lead, with its whoring and drinking and greediness and love of filthy French catamites.” Then the sky opened and hail stones the size of cannon balls fell about our ears followed by violent, soaking, torrential rain the like of which could not be imagined - for this was England in July, after all. The NERDS, terrified, tried to press themselves into the side of a large oak tree to escape this venomous diatribe but to no avail for it continued wreaking foul and thunderous havoc around their ears for many minutes. Lafayette was a bit put out by all this. “ Now look here,” he called upwards, “ Us NERDS aren’t as bad as all that and I only went to see B.T. to be friendly; nothing actually happened between us.” The Presence Up Above must have been convinced by Lafayette’s persuasive argument and sincere avowal of innocence because the rain slackened a bit and enabled the NERDS to scamper along the road to take shelter in someone’s woodshed. We were all soaked and pissed off. A council was convened. It was obvious that God did not want the NERDS to go to The Anchor that day. It was evidently considered to be a den of sinfulness and illicit pleasure where even now the inhabitants were suffering plagues of frogs and slashing rainfall, and were probably having to cast around for bits of stuff to build an ark out of. The council decided to eschew the sinful Anchor and instead head across the fields in a subtle short-cutting manoeuvre towards The Cock at Ringmer. The actual walk was quite interesting and picturesque, although not far, and the NERDS rolled up at The Cock just as the first wave of Old Trouts were disembarking from their BMWs and Range Rovers to clog up the bar for thirsty drinkers. But, and here God’s hand clearly revealed itself, here was a chance for Lafayette to redeem himself and show that The NERDS were not all feckless, rude, vile-living reprobates (as if). Lafayette made it his mission that day to help all the lovely, aged, rich people through the pub door. He held the door open for them, advised them to mind the step, commentated on how well dressed they were, and gratefully received their murmurings of thanks. After all these acts of contrition and obsequiousness Lafayette busied himself with all the fetching and carrying of - hush, speak softly - ‘alcoholic drinks’ for his companions. Then he went out the back, stripped off his damp shirt and got one of the bar girlies to flagellate him thoroughly so that his atonement could be seen to be complete. The rest of the NERDS, of course, took no notice. As long as they had food and drink they were happy. The food and drink, incidentally, were excellent, but eventually the NERDS realised that God had led them to a place where soft conversation took place, where strong drink was consumed only for medicinal purposes, and where it was considered rude to push in front of Old People to get to the bar and to trample them into the ground when they fell off their zimmer frames. Lafayette was so contrite for his sins that he ate laminated pie and only nicked one of Sandyball’s chips. Paco spoiled the New NERDS image by chucking his brandy all over himself but redeemed himself with a flash of God given genius by saying he would see if his sister could accommodate the NERDS at her holiday home in Spain for the 25th celebrations the following year. This we all thought was a good idea. Froggy told us that on his recent holiday Derek had secretly told him that Hamish Mc Findlay had an enormous penis; though how he knew this priceless piece of information was anybody’s guess. We all shushed Froggy for mentioning such dirtiness in this nice, respectable pub full of lovely, aged rich people, and urged him to temper his hitherto profligate life of seeking out murky websites and thinking only of himself or God would surely punish him. And so we walked back the way we had come over the wet fields and lowering landscape. Even the cows were shivering under trees waiting for the next downpour, but it was a pleasant enough route. Just as we had hit the main road again and were making progress towards Lewes, God appeared again. He had obviously heard Froggy’s foul tale concerning Hamish’s todger and decided to make an example of the poor Frog. He was suddenly stricken with terrible pains and grumbly noises in his entrails. He could hardly keep himself together and begged Sandyballs to let him stop at his house to use the facilities. Froggy blamed the (actually excellent looking) curry he had eaten in the Cock for his distress, but Lafayette knew better. It was the Wrath of God. Not content with giving the NERDS a bollocking for their own nefarious lifestyles, He was visiting His vengeance on those who had dirty minds and who heeded not His warnings. Poor Froggy managed to obtain Divine Pardon and relief in Sandyballs’ bog while the rest of us crept down to the Gardener’s for a crafty pint or two. The Gardener’s was obviously a more NERD - like pub where the Devil hung out. It is mostly for men and makes no concession to good taste or fancy furnishings. It provided one Milf to float through to the ladies room and delight our eyes (aesthetically, of course) and we spent a very happy couple of hours there in the late afternoon sun reflecting on our extraordinary experiences that day. Lafayette had learned that God was not to be trifled with and that he saw you doing everything - even the dirty things. It was evident that we could no longer go to the Anchor, (which had probably floated away anyway) and that we had to be nice to lovely, old rich people and not call them Old T****s any more. Froggy had to up his game and get a proper job at a proper airport; Paco had to stop chucking alcohol everywhere when he was being expansive and needed to invest in some wet weather gear; and Sandyballs needed to worship mammon less and spend more time with his wife (or setting rambles). Lafayette expects the NERDS will be back to normal next month despite their great religious experiences, so don’t worry too much Thou Readers of the Blog. Lafayette.

July's Joining Instructions

Dear All,    This month we walk on Wednesday 11th. This is in my 'week off' between stints at Luton and Gatwick South. The things I do for Her Maj !   Anyway, the ramble will start from my split-level, ranch-style residence in Mill Road.[ Check out the Google local map pictures!!] So, the usual 09.58/10.03 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town and I will meet you outside Lewes station and transport you up the hill for coffee and biscuits.   Wet weather gear perhaps?   SB

The Footy Ramble

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Lafayette's Joining Instructions for June

Dear NERDS, You will have already been informed of the callous betrayal of Sandyballs; he is deserting the NERDS to try to make himself fit for purpose again by taking mercenary employment with Border Agency - spit!!! As he has now lumbered me with organising the next ramble on Monday 11th June I have decided to re-visit the Yew tree at Arlington for lunch. All take the 10 30 (ish) train from Seaford and buy a return ticket for Berwick. Meet me in Vic's on Lewes station at about 10 45hrs and we will go to Berwick and walk around the reservoir (again). I will ring Paco nearer the date to remind him to attend. Lafayette.

Future Events

Dear NERDS,   You may be aware that myself and The Captain are both helping out the beleaguered UKBF during the Olympic period. You must understand that we are doing this to help out HM Queen and her Government - without hardly any thought to the £20 an hour on offer. Well, we are both now to further help out by working from next week at different ports before the Olympic period. I am going to Juxtaposed Control - somewhere or other - and The Captain will be savouring the delights of Stansted Airport. Again the potential attractions of the emoluments being offered plays no part in our decision!   This means that I am unlikely to make the next Ramble on June 11th. Panic not - Lafayette will be taking on the onerous task of Routemaster, as well as Scribe. Hope I can make the July ramble.   S.B.

Future Events

Hi all, The date for the June ramble has been changed. It is now Monday 11th. Uncharacteristically, we have planned ahead and now set some future dates as well. July will be on Wednesday 11th. August will (probably) be on Thursday 16th. September, if you remember, may well be a 3- day visit to Rye - we have tentatively set this for Monday 12th to Wednesday 14th. As always, these arrangements may well be altered. Please indicate if any of these dates present a problem. Looking forward to the New Forest write-up. Should make interesting reading! S.B.

May's New Forest Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No 270 8-11 May 2012. Those Present - Froggy, Lafayette, Sandyballs, Paco. The New Forest Rambles 2012. The NERDS may have had the “luck of the NERDS” for the last ramble when we went to Plumpton and had simply gorgeous weather most of the day. However the forecast for the annual shindig in the N.F. was fairly vile. We were promised rain, more rain, wetness, and lots of rain. So, confident that we were probably going to get a bit damp, we packed wet weather gear and set off. Froggy was driving since he had the nicest colour car and the biggest collection of crap music to entertain us - (Mongoloid, Petula Clarke, Z Z Top, Abba, etc). Actually at this stage the sun was out shining and we were all happy and gay - well happy, at least and looking forward to a couple of days relaxation in sylvan surroundings. The car in front could have been made for Froggy; it had a couple of girls in it and “mwah, mwah” written on the back - like kissy , kissy or “moi, moi” in Froggy’s case. Zooming into Hampshire we started to get dire motorway warnings about traffic accidents and hold-ups. Paco started to get worried (Paco worried?!!!) that he wouldn’t get his dinner on time. He’d only had a light, teeny, weeny breakfast and was frightened his blood sugar would take a nose dive and he’d become impotent or something, so Froggy diverted towards Brockenhurst where we knew we’d get a good pub lunch. Arriving at the Rose and Crown we were pleased to see that the car park was still being used as a short cut by all the girlies from the local finishing school. They obviously sensed that the NERDS were out for a good time and had money because there was a lot of girlish giggling and flashing of girly bits to get our attention. Sadly ( and probably fortunately) Paco was hungry and dragged us straight into the pub so nobody fell in love or got into trouble …yet. During a good lunch ( you know what I mean) we made the acquaintance of Fernando from Portugual who served port to Paco, and of Sofia also from Portugual who brought us pudding. The NERDS naturally chose the Pensioners’ option meal because it was served on a silver plate and you got more RESPECT from the staff. Both Sofia and Fernando said they had only recently arrived in this country and because the queues at Heathrow had been so long they’d swapped passports with a couple of Nigerians at the back and sailed through the control. We sat around a bit wallowing in the sun and the nostalgia of the garden of the Rose and Crown until someone said we needed to buy some booze for that evening. So off to the off licence where Lafayette was despatched with the whip to get some brandy for the hard types, and some whisky for those that had heart trouble - apparently whisky doesn’t make your heart race (!) ( Neither does marmite give you spots or crunchie bars give you gout - so what?) On, on to Burley, not far from Brockenhurst, where we were to stay. The guesthouse, the Forest Tea House, was run by a golden haired, skinny milf called Jane. She had startlingly blue eyes and squeaked a lot - especially when she talked - but was very pleasant. We were dead thankful we didn’t have Philby with us since he would have been sure to fall in love with her, and would have bored the rest of us by serenading her with crap poetry and going through numbers one to ten of the (unsuccessful) Philby seduction scheme. Then he would have got all mournful and lagged behind on rambles hoping that she would run after him and pay him some attention (lol). In his excitement at arriving well fed, Paco clumsily dumped Lafayette’s beeyootiful cashmere jumper into a muddy puddle and completely ruined it ! Lafayette went bananas. “ What on earth shall I do now?” he screamed, “I have absolutely nothing whatsoever to wear. How can I possibly go rambling now? I shall have to stay behind with the milf and supervise her washing my jumper. You lot clear off and leave me to my chagrin.” But the NERDS weren’t having any of that. They recognised lust when it reared its ugly head and didn’t want Lafayette to turn into another Philby (although the poetry might have been better written). So they implored Froggy who was routemaster to drag him away out into the countryside. Now Froggy was concealing secret designs himself on the milf - we hadn’t seen any girlies for at least 45 minutes, remember - and got extremely jealous at the thought of Lafayette writing poetry and having his jumper sympathetically hand washed by the milf so he got in a mega strop and stomped off into the Forest where he could brood on the injustices of the world. Eventually a cowed and disappointed Lafayette was drawn in his wake with the others wondering where the hell the route was supposed to be. The NERDS finally caught up with Froggy and convinced him that Lafayette didn’t really fancy the milf, that he couldn’t write poetry and all he was concerned about was his bloody sweater, so Froggy relented and began to act like a leader. That day’s walk was really rather pleasant ie. The sun was out, the scenery was spectacular - a blasted heath and lots of trees; you could see for miles although the going underfoot was slippery, slidery and generally a bit precarious. Froggy read the map correctly, consulted his extensive notes and took us in the right direction through the trees and back to Burley. In the village we came across our first bunch of ponies hanging around, waiting for their giros and generally living off the State. As with all ne’er do wells they begat children and there was a cutesy baby foal at the side of the road. Lafayette went over and patted one of the ponies and asked if he could write it a poem because he had to do something while his jumper was being fondled back at the ranch. The pony was not impressed and told Lafayette to sod off and to stop hanging around its child. More rejection for poor Lafayette. After the ramble the NERDS changed their muddy boots and ambled down the road to the centre of Burley. There wasn’t much in the village apart from a few New Age shops selling witchcraft stuff, but at least there were a couple of pubs. The Burley Inn was rather a posh pub but sadly failed to sell Old Thumper. This is the kamikaze, cure everything snake oil brewed in the N.F. and after a few pints of this you are guaranteed to write brilliant love poetry, be amazingly attractive to all women and win the lottery all in the same week (at least that’s how it feels after about three pints of the stuff). Unfortunately it tends to disconnect the tongue from the brain so occasionally produces some interesting side effects - especially with Sandyballs. So we sat on the balcony soaking up the late afternoon sun drinking something a bit less potent, and Paco regaled us with tales of what he had done in Brasil a few years back when women would flock to his table and beg to be entertained. (Didn’t know they sold Old Thumper in Brazil). Froggy said he was so happy he wanted to be buried in the New Forest and we told him we could all help him with that, but he said he meant when he was finally dead, not now, stupids. Eventually we went inside and had a very good, but expensive meal. Paco was so impressed with the quality of the bottle of Rioja that he knocked his glass all over himself, the table and Froggy. Ah, these passionate latin types, they do like waving their arms about! Back at the Milfery we watched telly chez Froggy while Paco crashed out unconscious clearly exhausted by his day of chucking things about. Day Two - Lotsa Rain. As predicted the next day began (and continued) wet and rainy. We got a very nice breakfast from You know Who who told us about her cat and how the village had been much better when there had been pigs running through it. We concluded that Jane was in fact a Milf Witch who turned people she didn’t like into pigs and condemned them to a life of squeaking round the New Forest. She obviously liked Lafayette because she’d done a brilliant hand job on his jumper and sprinkled it with fairy dust to try to lure him away from the rest of the NERDS. Actually all of us felt like shit that morning due to … er rambling too much the previous day so we took ourselves off to the Burley Inn for one pint, decided it was really a bit too posh for scruffy NERDS, then splashed round to The Queen’s Head on the other corner to see if it was any better. Wow! What a difference! Here the beer was a lot cheaper and the service a lot more friendly. We made friends with a barmaid called Stacy who didn’t seem to be a witch and wasn’t old enough to be a yummy mummy let alone a milf, so we decided not to inflict the Philby seduction technique on her just yet. The NERDS decided the weather was so awful that rambling was temporarily out of the question. So we settled in a nice corner where Froggy and Sandyballs read the papers and Lafayette taught Paco to play dice. Lafayette won all Paco’s money off him but Paco won the magic jumper off Lafayette so he had to buy it back in case he was turned into a pig. (Never cross a witchy milf!) Eventually the rain eased up from being totally drenching to become just vaguely annoying. Froggy who had spent ages honing and perfecting his routes decided we shouldn’t sit around the pub all day but should go out to test his navigational skills. We went along the road and looked at all the posh houses, read all the local notices saying “Don’t feed the Witches” and entered the Forest. It was very damp, drops fell on us from the tall trees, the going , especially uphill, was treacherous, we slipped and slid and jumped over crazy streams. Sticky Welsh who was leading us pored over the map. We went up Lucy hill (Who?) and got very, very lost. We were afraid of the Witches and Paco started to get hungry again. Sandyballs had a terrible craving for Old Thumper and Lafayette tried to cheer everyone up by saying he would soon be back in the arms of the milf (the enchanted jumper was beginning to weave its spell). Froggy went through another patch of jealousy at Lafayette’s passion for our landlady and refused to speak to him again until he promised to stop behaving like Philby. Lafayette refused so Froggy went into a profound depression and tried to lead Lafayette into a stream to drown him. However the magic jumper protected Lafayette from Froggy’s wrath and showed him and the rest of the NERDS the right way back to Burley. Back at The Queen’s Head Stacy was glad to see us and told us the other pub we had been heading for ( The White Buck Inn) was rubbish and expensive and we were better off in her pub because it contained the only ATM machine in the village. Fair dos; since she had volunteered this helpful information we decided to spend our money chez elle - especially as it was curry night. We all had a good meal and Lafayette ate a lot of cake and although Stacy had gone home by now we left her a big tip. Back to the Milfery where watched a telly programme about gay marriage and another about waterboarding. Sandyballs said he’d recently been given instruction in this advanced interrogation technique up at Gatwick where he’d been sent off for mentoring recently. Froggy said they’d given up this technique at Newhaven and now relied on the Shirley Wirley technique she had picked up from Lafayette at Gatwick ie. Get your detainees pissed on wine and go and have a friendly chat with them. Night fell. The witches came out, the NERDS went to bed. Day Three - Going Home. Sadly today was our last mega breakfast served by Jane. We had to share the breakfast room with some Cloggies who seemed to be going to The Ile of Wight so we warned them about all the local hazards - rain, witches, milfs, pigs, posh pubs, more rain etc and bade farewell to Jane and her cat. She asked us to give her a favourable write-up on that website-where-you-say-if-you-had-a-good-time-or-not and we said we would. Lafayette said he’d send her some of his (Philby’s )love poetry and had a scheme in mind to make her famous, but saw that Froggy was starting to get jealous again and shut up. She asked for a link to the NERDS’ blog but we told her she wasn’t really old enough which made her feel happy. She said she wouldn’t turn Lafayette into a pig because he’d been nice to her. Froggy scowled. So we drove back home via The Black Rabbit at Arundel where we always stop (and where it always seems cold and windy). It had been a very interesting few days and we had visited a few old haunts and had some new experiences. Thanks to Froggy for: driving, and doing the routes even if the Forest and the weather defeated us all at certain times. Perhaps we shall return to see this part of the Forest again. Lafayette already has a trip booked en famille to buy his daughter a baby pony, either that or to sell her to the witches - it depends on how well she behaves. Nierdos para siempre! Lafayette.

April's Ramble 2012

NERDS’ Ramble No 269 - Mon. 30/4/12. Those Present - Froggy, Sandyballs, Lafayette, El Paco, El Capitan, B.T. The Florence Ramble Lafayette thought “ Well, what on earth can I call this ramble ( since they’re all repeats and the participants tend to be the same NERDS - except this month, of course). I know, I’ll name it after the barmaid we met cos she was able, willing , and I told her I’d make her famous. And so to Florence it is dedicated. Two NERDS of yore flattered us with their presence this time. B.T. had come over from France to sort out the usual family squabbles about inheriting those dodgy banknotes he’d left in the forgery room at Gatwick, and the Captain was on shore leave with a day or so to spare before visiting another wife in another port. While the NERDS were travelling (sans Sandyballs) to Lewes that morning, the Captain complained to Lafayette that he had nearly run down a familiar figure sprinting across the Newhaven ring road. Lafayette revealed that he had been secretly summoned by Lord Coe to take part in the Olympic 100 metres final to ensure that British interests were upheld and that Usain Bolt didn’t have things all his own way. He was, Lafayette continued, merely pitting his lightning acceleration against the early morning traffic, and anyway, the Captain had missed him hadn’t he? Breakfast was convened chez Vic on Lewes station platform where Froggy in a fit of generosity bought everyone cognacs to go with their coffee. Sandyballs was there already sharpening his Samurai sword and preparing to be a wicked mercenary in the pay of Mme. Home Secretary that coming summer. The powers that be considered that the way to solve the huge passport queues at airports was to put him and the Captain on adjacent desks so that they could chat together about the vast sums of money they hoped to be making - and thereby slow down the passenger flow even more. B.T. had been invited to be a floating forgery officer at the back of the control, but had declined the offer as he had never really been interested in making easy money. But to the ramble….Ah yes, in a month when it had done nothing but piss down with rain practically every day the luck of the NERDS had prevailed and the sun was out and shining over Plumpton race course where we began. Sandyballs said we should have to stroll very slowly along the lanes and dither a lot because the first pub was one of those awkward Sussex ones that only opened at noon. We met a girlie with a horse who directed our way pubwards - she looked very rural and horsy and obviously knew where the important places were in the county. Accordingly, at one minute past twelve we were banging on the door of The Jolly Sportsman at East Chiltington demanding to be let in. Sussex girlies let us in ( all the Polish and Roumanian ones had obviously fled the recession and had cleared off back home.) so we settled down to con them into thinking we were going to have lunch there.( It was an expensive gastro pub, you see, with vastly inflated food prices.) So we had a couple of pints and the Captain said he was waiting like a coiled spring for an important phone call from the Home Sec, and Paco said he had always lived in a perpetual state of coiled springery but since retirement he couldn’t quite remember why. Froggy chimed in saying he too wanted to be a coiled mercenary because it sounded cool, but everybody pointed out he couldn’t because he’d already pressed the F10 button on his machine and was due to self destruct before we got to the next pub. On, on we went, and after a lot of faffing around, going through horsy fields and fighting our way through Plumpton Agricultural College - where the students were idly standing around polishing their posh landrovers and untangling the knots in their ponies’ manes - we finally got to The half Moon pub. Here we met Florence who was very personable, very efficient and reckoned she had a brother called Zebedee (oing, oing.)The Admiral told her that he too was waiting like a coiled spring for the call to arms but she didn’t seem as impressed as the rest of us had been at this singular honour being paid to him. The food was good here - but sadly it had gone from being a place with good pub grub like last time, to becoming somewhat of a gastro mealery rather like the Jolly Sportsman. Maybe they were trying to keep out poor ramblers with muddy boots and loud behaviour. Ha!, Ha! Well, bad luck, the NERDS were all now rich and could afford posh gastro pubs and obliging bar maids so Up Yours! In our loud and inimitable way we discussed having a whip round to buy Froggy a stick-on chest wig so that he could cover up his scars and impress all the girls. Froggy said all the recent attention had so confused him that he had joined MI6. He admitted that it had actually been he who had killed Stephen Kelly and said he had stuffed some bloke into a suitcase the other week. It was better being a serial killer rather than a coiled mercenary because the money was better and you could exude an air of mystery. Florence took our icecream order and asked us if we fancied becoming lecturers at the nearby agricultural college where she kept her cow. She said there was a dearth of good looking middle aged men amongst the staff and we ought to apply. S.B. and El Capitan said they already had jobs, Froggy was a bit mysterious about what his job entailed, B.T. said he might find it a bit difficult to keep coming over from France to attend, so it was down to Lafayette to apply. He said he’d think about it if he got chucked out of CoastWatch for molesting pirates or something. To compensate Florence for failing to lure us on to the college staff we dragged her outside ( a la Philby) and took her photo with us, then we set off back towards the station at Plumpton. Along the way we mooned over some alpacas who were coyly trying to get us to join them in their field since it was the mating season. ( B.T. fancied the chocolate coloured one ; he said it reminded him of all his wives ie. petite dark and sexy). Then after a wait at the station we clambered on the train and smeared all the returning commuters with mud and bad language. It had been a good ramble thanks to Sandyballs’ impeccable navigating and the luck of the NERDS had held for the weather. It had been nice to see B.T. and the Captain again. Next week is The New Forest so let’s hope Froggy isn’t on a secret assignment for his new employers because this is going to be His Show! Bye for Now . Lafayette.

Future events

Hi all,   The date for the June ramble has been changed. It is now Monday 11th. Uncharacteristically, we have planned ahead and now set some future dates as well. July will be on Wednesday 11th. August will (probably) be on Thursday 16th. September, if you remember, may well be a 3- day visit to Rye - we have tentatively set this for Monday 12th to Wednesday 14th.   As always, these arrangements may well be altered. Please indicate if any of these dates present a problem.    Looking forward to the New Forest write-up. Should make interesting reading!   S.B.

Dear Nerds, This month we ramble on the last day - Monday 30th. We can expect an old friend to visit from abroad (BT) as well as occasional celebrity rambler ( the Captain) - as well as all the regulars. All are welcome. We are once again reprieving an old ramble - as we have to do now. Basically we are taking the train to Plumpton and will be lunching at the Half Moon. Also, on the way, it is hoped that we can have a pint at the posh gastro pub The Jolly Sportsman in East Chiltington - if we walk slowly enough, as the latter establishment does not open until noon. Therefore a slightly later start. Seaford/ Newhaven types take the 10.25/ 10.32 and alight at Lewes. Then to the Runaway Cafe to await the 11.20 to Plumpton. Hope the weather has improved by then. Perhaps Matt can have a word with Him Upstairs ? S.B.

Second "Plodders" outing?

Hi all,
 
Hope we are all looking forward to the second (?) Plodders tomorrow, 18.4.2012. I am glad to see that indecision and lack of coherent planning is alive and well in the new fledging organisation!
 
I would also like to confirm that the senior organisation, the NERDS, will be walking on Monday April 30th. As always, details to follow later.
 
Harry

March 2012 Spring Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No 268 - Wed 21/3/12.

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

Spring Ramble.


Lafayette had forgotten the most important thing that happened at the end of the last ramble. He had got knighted!!!!. As could be seen from the fantastic photographs taken in the posh house, Matt had made him Sir Lafayette. So, as well as owning a bit of a Scottish fishing bank, (thanks to Shirley Wirley) as well as being a fantastic naval hero, as well as being a founder member of the NERDS, or perhaps because of all this Lafayette had been greatly honoured…. That’s all….. on to the next ramble.

It was a fantastic, warm, spring day. The sun was out and as we were to see, the lambs were springing in the fields. The NERDS were a bit short again (in numbers) Froggy had got up from his convalescent bed (bravely), Paco obviously hadn’t got up from his bed, so wasn’t with us; Dio decided he needed to know a bit more about British eccentrics so had come along too.

The NERDS started off from Lewes station and ambled up Southover High Street. Sandyballs told us that he had been picked as an Olympic Torchbearer to represent Border Force United during the Games so had had to go up to Gatwick for an induction meeting. He was taught how to swipe the Olympic torch correctly and how to ask passengers daft questions like “ Have you come to bomb the UK during your visit?” etc.
Apparently there was a syndicate at Gatwick you could join to borrow the office knife if you wanted to cut your wrists ( That’s if you were a full time border lackey thingy), all the CIOs were 9 year old girlies from primary school and most of them were Nigerian. Nice to know things are improving up there!

Any road up, The NERDS turned left and came to a red traffic light in the middle of nowhere which said “Stop if Light is Red.”
So we dutifully stopped and hung about a bit and then Froggy decided to take a group photo. By the time this had been organised (sigh) and taken, the traffic light had gone red again so we had to hang around being bored for another ten minutes or so until allowed to proceed.

Finally we hit the fields where Dio took lots of photos of frolicking lambs with his camera phone, and where the rest of us got a bit bogged down in the boggitude of the fieldy bogs. Finally we got to The Juggs at Kingston, a consistently over-rated pub, but which happened to be the only one in the area.
We sat in the garden cos it was sunny and Froggy made his first venture into drinking alcohol since his cardiac lockdown. We all had to prepare for this. Would he suddenly drop dead foaming at the mouth? Would he go suddenly mad and start to babble rubbish or would he just act normal? Fortunately, the exercise seemed to bring a little colour to his cheeks and he insisted on getting his agent (Matt) to show us his operation scar (yawn). Matt felt it incumbent on him to get up and change tables whenever the sun got too hot ( too cold, too shiny, or too sunny) so we were constantly spilling pints and getting grumpy.

After a while we began to be amazed at the vast numbers of Old Trouts that a sunny day and a nice garden had dragged out to the pub. There were thousands of them all blethering and faffing indecisively round the bar and getting in the NERDS’ way, as usual. Eventually we were disillusioned by the crap service (too many Trouts and not enough barmaids) and moved on over the hills back towards Lewes.

On the way we met a nice white horse who came over to enquire if we’d got anything interesting to eat. We hadn’t, we but talked to it a bit and cuddled it a bit and told it our life stories and even took its picture to make it famous. It told us it was a prisoner and lived in a nearby windmill with a witch who hated Lewes council and it was trying to grow its hair so that someone would rescue it from its lofty tower. Since it was walking around fairly freely in some field or other we knew it was lying and hurried on before it could bewitch us.

And so The NERDS went over the sunny fields back into Lewes over suicide viaduct and into the Swan at Kingston. Now this is a nice pub with no Old Trouts, in fact at about half past three there was nobody else there except us. So we sat in the garden ( after having changed tables a couple of times at Matt’s request) and listened to how Froggy watches “Vintage Erotica” on some porny channel he’s got at home. Apparently if you google “Favourites” and “Froggy” together you get views of all his childhood TV heroines showing their tits off - before they all got famous on Blue (snigger) Peter.

Another quick trip to the Kings Head along the road signalled the end of this ramble and gave us concern for Sandyballs who said he himself was going to have an operation that week to have his face off, remodelled and put back on again. He’d been getting into debt recently what with weddings and such like and he owed a lot of money to some nasty people. He was therefore going down the route of drastic plastic surgery and would be disappearing for a while. He would be back, however for the next ramble when we hoped to be joined by B.T. fresh over from France.

Plus ca change plus ce sont les memes NERDS.

Lafayette.

March Ramble Joining Instructions

Dear Dwindling Band of Nerds,
 
This month we meet on Wednesday 21st. The meeting place will be Lewes station, once again. So, it is the good old 09.58/ 10.10 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town. From there we will probably make for the Juggs in Kingston - unless I have a better idea.
 
In his email, Lafayette mentioned setting the date for April. However I thought we already had arranged this for Wednesday 25th? Anyway we can discuss this and talk some more about the projected excursion to the New Forest in May.
 
See you
 
SB

March 2010 Ramble advance notice

Dear NERDS,

Hope you have all recovered from the long and gruelling ramble last month. Next ramble is next week! Wednesday 21st March so make sure you are all available that day.

Bring your diaries with you as we shall need to set a date for April when it is to be hoped we can Include B.T. who is rumoured to be visiting the UK with his good friend Lord Lucan - all very hush , hush , of course. (What a Mystery Guest coup that would be!).

Anyway, Sandyballs is currently being "trained" how to be an IO up at Status, then he is being "mentored" to make sure he doesn't run amok and kill someone with his landing stamp at the Olympics.

All for now - see you all next week - and bring diaries.

Lafayette.

P.S. no ramble route set yet; S.B. is giving this due consideration.

February Ramble

NERDS’ Ramble No 267 Feb. 27th 2012.

Those Present: Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Matt, The Admiral.

The Posh House Ramble.

Today the NERDS were going on campus. While hanging around Falmer railway station leering at young nubile students (as you do), Sandyballs and Lafayette had come across a posh watering hole which they thought they might visit with their little friends.

It was a dull day in February, the NERDS all met up outside the University of Sussex at Falmer. No sign of El Paco, no sign of Bronco either despite Sandyballs’ message saying this wasn’t to be a difficult ramble in view of the NERDS’ various disabilities. In fact it had been recce-ed the week before by S and L to ensure it was flat enough and short enough so that nobody would suffer toothache, diarrhoea, depression or even a heart attack by coming along.

Froggy had bravely come out from his purdah of convalescence to run, jump and skip across the flat university precincts which led up to Stanmer House where we were headed. As the NERDS headed through the tunnel into the campus Lafayette (who had been expensively educated by his doting parents nearly half a century previously) remarked that the students didn’t seem to have changed much in all that time. The girlies were still wearing skirts up to their backsides (in a very fetching way) with the usual array of feather boas and high heels, and the guys were still trying to grow beards and look intelligent. Poor young things. Just wait till you have to try to get a job!

The NERDS wandered up the road towards the big house. It had obviously been the property in days of yore of some filthy rich beer baron - such as Lord Harvey of Lewes - who had owned vast tracks of land and had exploited the under privileged local peasants ( a bit like Lafayette’s Dad). We paused to admire the Donkey Wheel where poor little donkeys had had to work 30 hours a day plodding round and round to crush the hops that went into the beer that we all drink today. Doesn’t it make you feel ashamed to profit from all this torture and exploitation!

Anyway we went up past the petting farm. No, Froggy, not students, animals. Past the peasants cottages where they were allowed to crawl off to die at the end of their miserable lives, and round the church up to Stanmer House. This very stately home had been recently taken over by a go ahead restaurant chain who had retained the original ambiance of sophistication and managed to produce decent meals as well.

We were greeted at the door by a powdered flunky who, when we whispered “NERDS” in his ear rushed off to turf out Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt to give us their table. He did look at Froggy a bit askance, however, and asked him to remove his boots. It must be said the place was rather posh. There were at least three dining rooms filled with Chippendale furniture, Old Master paintings adorned the walls and there was an open wood fire in each room.

An unctuous young Algerian came rushing up to supply our drinks and asked if he could satisfy our every desire. We politely declined even though Matt showed a bit of interest, and after a bit of faffing around with menus we were led away to be seated for lunch. The Admiral was very impressed when he heard that Angelina and Brad came here regularly to eat but had had to make way for the NERDS that day. Froggy was gloomy at having had to remove his footwear and related to us the sad story of his wicked wife who had nicked his pet mouse and kept it for her very own to spite him.

The meal was of the expected high standard and not too expensive either. Lafayette said it was like dining at his old Oxford College ( the one he had failed to get into) and the Admiral was even more impressed - ( he loves high class people, you see).

We whiled away the afternoon sprawled over various chaises longues in the drawing room while taking coffee from a silver pot. Various servants came and asked if they could gratify us but Lafayette waved them away with aristocratic disdain and they scuttled off to go back to their hop treading, or whatever they did on their afternoons off.

Finally, and sadly it was time to leave. The flunkey escorted us to the door and kissed Lafayette’s hand in wonder at the generous tip which was bestowed on him, while managing at the same time to surreptitiously kick Froggy’s boots out into the mud.

So back we walked down the drive marvelling at all this High Life that we had seen on our very doorstep and vowing to return some day. Back at the station we mingled with the soon- to -be unemployed young students and considered how wonderful it was to be so innocent and full of ideals and optimism. Lafayette had once been like that before he had fallen in with Bad Company (Guess what their names were) and his life had gone downhill. Still, he could always sell his silver spoon, I suppose.

Thanks to Sandyballs for discovering our eating place, and to Froggy for being so brave over the nasty rough terrain. More plans are afoot to make our annual trip to the New Forest to see the ponies again. Just don’t tell Lafayette’s daughter otherwise she’ll want him to bring her one back.

Lafayette.