October's Halloween Ramble 2016

NERDS' Ramble No. 323. Wed. 31st Oct. 2016.


Those Present – Froggy, Lafayette, Paco, Sandyballs, Curly.


Froggy's Halloween Ramble.

No, no clown costumes; no witches hats, no chainsaws; only a lot of scary faces which meant that Froggy had been let loose as routemaster on the scariest day of the year to organise The Halloween Ramble. He had already scared off Matt who was cowering in his front room hoping the door bell wouldn't ring. Bandido and his mom, Imogen had also taken flight so that just left a bunch of hard-core NERDS quivering in fear and anticipation of what the day would bring.

The day actually began with picking up Lafayette at Newhaven Station where surprisingly, The Captain, already on the train, kindly gave up his seat to the (formerly) Infirm One. Lafayette had given up his summer job as a butcher's boy, whizzing around on his bike, to join the only club that would have him and stagger around a few pubs. What the Captain was doing amongst us that day he wouldn't say. We suspected he'd got a bit of totty hidden away in Brighton but he remained amazingly circumspect.

After picking up Sandyballs at Lewes we were on the way to Berwick when Paco started talking about Bonobos. WTF? Was this some sort of Spanish sandwich, peut-etre? An island in the West Indies nobody had visited? The name of the current Gambian prime minister - or what? For some reason Paco had chimps on the brain ( for such they were) but only the educated train guard had ever heard of them. OK......so moving on...

We alighted at Berwick and found to our amazement that The Berwick Inn was actually open with rough working type men sitting outside drinking beer. Despite our pleas, Froggy wouldn't stop (Ooh, how masterful!)

and intead took us over the fields in the glorious sunshine promising us another better pub

where we could get wasted. (Huh, jam tomorrow doesn't do it for Lafayette; he wants it all; he wants it now.) However Froggy insisted (Ooh!) and we made it to The Barley Mow on the other side of the A27 just in time to hammer on the door at opening time.

Things to note about The Barley Mow:
1) The Barmaid – took a picture of us all lounging in the armchairs

before her unlit fire. Not bad, 8/10.

2) The ghostly butler – must have been about eighty years old,

quivered when you stamped on the floorboards. OK, about 7/10.

3) The Gentlemans' Lavatory – Wow! Full of mind boggling lady porn,

mostly from the Edwardian era, guaranteed to make any young lad go out and look for girls (to make friends with etc.)

Yep, this was a good pub, but after a mere two pints (and a lot of visits to the loo) Froggy masterfully dragged us away (Ooh!) to carry on his chosen track over the fields in the golden sun to get to the next pub.

After a bit of sort of getting a bit lost Lafayette put us on the right path and we descended into a field full of friendly horses.

At least we hoped they were friendly. Sandyballs wasn't so sure, “ They can bite, you know,” he said fearfully. “ I bet your mother told you that about girls just to put you off them,” retorted Lafayette whose own mother had been enlightened enough to plaster the walls of the family bog with tasteful “art studies” so that young Laf wouldn't get any queer ideas when he went off to university.

The horses, well, actually one shetland pony and a bunch of well looked after brown mares

were in fact very friendly and searched us closely in the hope of finding apples. Sadly we had failed to pick up any by the tree outside the pub so they had to go hungry. Actually, not so hungry, as Laf found out a couple of fields further on, when he discovered his precious notes on his precious yellow embark cards were missing out of his back pocket. “Shit!” he thought. “I'll have to make everything up (again) although I'm sure nobody will notice. What a disaster!

Next stop, and pub number three in the thrilling Froggo adventure was Rose Cottage. This is where Sandyballs, determined to show Laf. that his own mother had brought him up right, launched into a spectacular line of chat to the bewildered and harrassed barmaid.

“Aren't you that Davina McCall, the one who's on the telly all the time?” he enquired. The barmaid looked at Sandyballs coldly. “ Do you really think Davina McCall would be up to her arms in stupid customers with their stupid orders and stupid ham egg and chips?” If I was Davina McCall I'd be lying around in a bikini outside my luxury pool

not dealing with tosspots like you asking bloody stupid questions!” she shouted angrily, then promptly burst into tears. “There, there,” cooed Lafayette giving her his nice, fresh, white hanky. “Wipe your tears away with this, mon petit chou.” The barmaid moaned and collapsed into Lafayette's arms

etc. etc. leaving Laf. to be actually quite glad that he'd lost his original notes.

The NERDS sat outside in the sun, Laf sat with the barmaid on his knee. Another barmaid served everyone with their food and drink.

Laf's barmaid snuggled into his shoulder and told him that her real name was Claudia Winkelman but all the stupid customers persisted in thinking she was the other one. “There, there,” soothed Laf. “Perhaps you'd better come back to my house where I can dry your tears.” Just as Claudia was nodding prettily there was a shout from Sandyballs. “Hey!, I've just found your real notes lying here under the table.” Pouff, everything good about the world suddenly disappeared. Lafayette swore he'd get even with Sandyballs one day.

So while we basked in the glow of the afternoon sun setting over the nearby fields, the conversation reverted to its trite realities. Froggy told us about his prostate problems and how he had to get up twice in the night for a wee. S.B. agreed and said he was a twice a night wee-er as well. Curly said he only had to get up once in fact.(“Oh God,” Lafayette thought, “ Maybe I'll just flush my notes down the loo here and write something more interesting.”). Sandyballs interrupted his nocturnal musing to put on a medal and demand money from everyone.

Apparently he'd cycled for miles and miles the other week and raised a lot of sponsorship for over-age Nigerian kids to come as refugees to the UK. Nobody paid up.

The food and drink in Rose Cottage were excellent and the NERDS, persuaded by Froggy, (Ooh! Masterful) decided to lie about here all afternoon,

or at least until the sun went down, and enjoy the fruits of Lafayette's fantasies. Eventually however, having pissed off all the other disapproving, middle class, sober couples who were sitting outside with us (nobody else had a barmaid on their knee, you see,) The NERDS moved on over the fields on that balmy and delightful afternoon in search of frescoes and religious absolution in a certain church we (thought) we knew.

So, after a while we went into St. Wotsits not far away, looked round, found God but no frescoes. Sandyballs was convinced the NERDS were being punished for Lafayette's sins. Lafayette having been brought up not a catholic

and coached by his mother in how to talk properly to girlies, didn't give a toss. There were plenty more pubs with barmaids in, who needed poxy frescoes after all?

We carried on over the sunny, golden fields until we came to St. Doodah, another famous Sussex church. This we knew to be the right church but by this time we were all too knackered to go round it. Instead Froggy took some pictures of Paco talking to some bonobos in a barn,

and Laf. and S.B. wandered into a little un-manned shop outside someone's front garden, and bought some jam and some eggs.

(I blame that Davina McCall on the cooking programmes on TV, thought Laf.).

Passing infront of the Cricketers at about 4 o'clock. Sandyballs hailed a barmaid clearing up plates and glasses from the front garden and asked if she was that Carole Kirkwood from off the telly. “No!” she spat, looking harrassed and put upon, “And you're not getting a drink either because we're closed!” So that was that.

Lafayette smirked inwardly.

Nothing for it but to hoof it back to The Berwick Inn and hope it was still open.

It was, and of course it was all decked out in Halloween Shit, and so the beer was, wait for it, £4 a pint! ( Froggy actually paid £5.50 for a pint of lager.) The NERDS knew then that the day had finally come when they would really, really, really have to give up drinking beer and go on to cheap Lidl's calvados instead. Curly said it was all B.T's fault – him and his expensive Brexit ideas! We couldn't even savour these pints as we had about ten minutes before the train came.

Oh well, it had been a good ramble what with Froggy being all masterful, horses eating Lafayette's notes and barmaids crying into his shoulder ( well only one actually.......perhaps). The weather had been fantastic and the pubs pretty good apart from the price of beer.

Nice one Froggy.

Lafayette.