June Ramble 2015

NERDS Ramble No. 307. Tues. 16th June 2015.

Those Present – Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Matt, Curly Clarke, The Bish, The Captain.

The Ramble when Lafayette got very, very, very pissed.

Sandyballs was proposing a killer ramble this month. One which started off in the country side but then involved a huge hill, nay escarpment up to the top of the Downs. We had all done this in times past – it had almost killed The Bish last time and he was now not only older but prepared to give it another go.

Most NERDS met on the train from Seaford where The Captain was having a go at poor Matt for his diabolical fashion sense (ie. stripy shorts and a jazzy shirt) and because Captain had seen a flyer advertising “Purcell's Faerie Queen” he thought this might be Matt doing a burlesque turn as part of the Brighton Festival.
Dear Matt was concerned that the general public might think the Captain had been employed as his fashion advisor and/or theatrical agent so hastened to distance himself from any such suggestion.

Sandyballs met us at Lewes. He knew the walk was going to be an absolute bastard so he had packed a defibrillator and a couple of body bags - just in case. Froggy had been campaigning on line for the last week or so to get the route changed or modified; he didn't think he could heave his not inconsiderable bulk up the hill from The Half Moon but Sandyballs was adamant; we were going to do the climb if it killed us all. Such sympathy, such tyranny! He'd managed to persuade Curly that if he got to the top, czech babe Kylie (aka Veronica) would be there waiting for him. Such wild expectation, such naivety!

Anyway, we de-trained at Plumpton,

a very pleasant station set in the relative silence of the countryside where the sun was shining, the insects murmuring, the birds tweeting etc.

You know the sort of thing. We wandered through the lanes enjoying the calm of the day passing a typical Sussex pub “The Paedophile” Children Welcome, said the notice, but nobody thought it was a good idea to stop there.

Eventually we went through Plumpton College

where lots of posh girlies were grooming lots of posh ponies, and where young lads were pretending to study agriculture and be farmers. Most of them, however, were lolling around drinking beer and trying to cop off with the posh birds with ponies. College life, ah, plus ca change.........Somewhere along the way we met a real farmer in a real landrover with whom Lafayette had a long, interesting conversation about the best way to slaughter grey squirrels, magpies and other vermin. Lafayette's new friend reckoned the best way of dealing with seagulls was either to use a Khalashnikov assault rifle or else dynamite in extreme cases. Lafayette wondered what sort of training and field trips they gave at Plumpton college and whether they might take him on as a mature student gamekeeper. Throw in a few posh birds with posh ponies and lots of beer.......Nah, Lafayette had never been known to fantasise too much.

Soon we arrived at the Half Moon pub. Sandy balls had chosen a table in the semi shade, and with a commendable degree of foresight had brought with him a bottle of wine and some picnic glasses

so that we could have an aperitif before the pub actually opened for business. Everyone drank and said how they were scared of having to go up the escarpment. The Captain tried to persuade everyone to vote UKIP and leave Europe. The Bish and others told him to fuck off, reminded him the UK's borders were a shambles now and pointed out how it might be a bit difficult to re-start examining French onion sellers and Italian waiters when we couldn't even stop the Nigerian forgers and the Colombian drug smugglers from overrunning our fair land.

Fortunately just as positions were beginning to get a bit entrenched the pub opened and our thoughts turned to other matters.

Now The Half Moon had always been a good place if a bit expensive. You could tell the usual clientele from the dead fox which was nailed to the wall just by the gents. However the place had suddenly got very professional. No longer could you just go up to the bar to get a drink then return a few minutes later to order a meal. Now there were teams of young women (colleges and schools were breaking up) who “took charge of your table” and the clientele thereon, to make sure your orders and money were processed in a quick and efficient fashion.

No complaints here then. We had to allow Matt to change table at least once because he didn't like the view or was scared of getting skin cancer in the sun, but thereafter we were waited on hand and foot by “ our waitress” Katrina

who gave very good service and was (somewhat disappointingly ) English. (Where had all the dirty Czech and Roumanian babes gone? Where was Kylie?). Anyway the dinner was good, the sun was shining and even Matt seemed disinclined to make his usual fuss over the number of chips doled out etc.

Unfortunately this was when Lafayette started to have problems. He didn't mean to, and in time honoured Froggy fashion It wasn't his fault. You see, the day previously Lafayette had had a tooth removed. He had gallantly put up with this surgery so that his family could once again have a happy, smiling paterfamilias who would not be grumpy at them because he had toothache. Unfortunately, the downside to this was that Lafayette couldn't eat much. (big bleeding holes in your head persuade you that toast and crisps are off limits) So Lafayette consumed a mouthful or two of soup

only and a few mashed up strawberries for afters; but then discovered that a particular sort of cider was extremely nice and had amazingly anaesthetic and palliative qualities. Four pints later he was completely rat-arsed. Nobody noticed this at the time, least of all Lafayette. Notes tail off at this point but Lafayette recalls floating up the escarpment

as if he had drunk a gallon of Red Bull (Wings and stuff), then feeling rather tired and lying down to have a little snooze.

Froggy's photos will bear out the fact that for a lot of the time after lunch Lafayette was completely out of it. The NERDS had a bit of difficulty getting him to his feet - I mean, It was nice lying there in the sun

dreaming about fairies and icecream

and girlies with big......... but finally he was hauled upright and propelled down the long hill towards Lewes. Lafayette remembers it was a long way down these paths, that Froggy took care of him the same way he looks after Bronco (and other needy lunatics) and that he ended up in the Black Horse drinking lots of coffee.

It was not a fit of drunkenness which would probably go down as notorious in the annals of the NERDS; Lafayette didn't kill anybody or throw himself over a cliff. It really wasn't as funny as watching Philby, hopelessly drunk, trying to make headway with the girl of the ferry with the corkscrew hair, or the time when Lafayette himself had to prop up Sandyballs against the door of The Select and then manoeuvre him into the hallway whereupon Sandyballs promptly fell flat on his face over a very surprised Neron ( large hound). No, it was just a little abberation

which emphasised that if you're going to drink, eat something as well!

And so (allegedly) ended the Ramble no. 307. Thanks go to Sandyballs

for bringing all the supplies to the pub and allowing us to visit Plumpton once again. Thanks to The Captain and the Bish for giving us an entertaining political discussion, and thanks to Froggy for his pastoral care of Lafayette when the latter was a little indisposed.

Don't forget Andy Maskell's do at The Crown in Turners Hill on Monday 13th July where you can meet all the Gatwick Escapees and reminisce on how pleasant it was when you were persecuting French onion sellers and Italian waiters in the Good Old Days.

See you there.

Lafayette.