November 2017 Ramble

NERDS' Rambles 336 and 337.

Ramble 336 - 15th November 2017

Those Present - Froggy, Lafayette, Curly, The Captain, Paco, Imogen and Bandido, Sandyballs (late arrival.)

Plan A, formulated by Sandyballs, was to take the NERDS right up Seaford Head thus killing off most of us, and then presumably having lunch at the Golf Club. Fortunately S.B. had to take a relative to hospital so he couldn't have his wicked way. Instead Froggy was put in charge so we all met up at Seaford station to bargain our way to the shortest ramble possible.

Imogen and Bandido had heard of a new caff right next to the station which everybody had been walking past for weeks now but which only perspicacious women with big black dogs had noticed.

It was called “Steamworks” and looked very stylish so we all went in to talk to the nice couple who were busy setting it up and to have a coffee and Jamesons.

After refreshments came the thorny question of where to walk

and where to lunch. Froggy gave us the usual thousand and one options and we finally decided to walk along the sea shore to Newhaven. Plan B for lunch was to be The Flying Fish. OK, so we set off and Laf’ duly rang up S.B. to give him advance notice of the new arrangements so that “he could meet us at the pub.”

In the seafront park Paco took charge of the slavering monster and walked around with his darkened glasses looking like the archetypal blind man with a guide dog.

Bandido was busy sniffing bits of shit and nearly allowed Paco to walk into the sea. Some guide dog!

Newhaven was fast approaching when someone raised doubts about the quality of the cooking at the Fish. After a lot of argy bargy NERDS' democracy came into play once again and the lunchtime venue was switched to The Ark at Newhaven (Plan C.)

Dutifully, Lafayette dug out his phone once again to inform Sandyballs who was beginning to realise that his iron grip on the discipline of the NERDS was surely slipping, and that he ought to get back and take charge.

Fortunately The Ark was open (nobody had checked this) and we managed to bag the big table at the back.

Sandyballs had rushed back from Brighton in a panic and was already there supping Harveys and biting his fingernails with stress. Things calmed down, we all had a very pleasant meal with lots of wine and stuff,

and then everybody cleared off leaving Lafayette to go home and worry about his writer's bloc. He's thinking of advertising for a ghost writer

to take on the awesome responsibility of churning out crap every month. Are there any ghosts out there with a vivid imagination?