Hail fellow Nerds,
As you all must know, the next ramble is set for this Wednesday 24th. Joining instructions are that we meet at the Purple Palace in Meeching Road at about 10 -ish. Many thanks again to Lafayette. The ramble destination depends on several factors - principally the weather. Hey, we may not ramble anywhere - it depends on how the whim takes us. We may just hang around on a Seaford street corner and beat up any Cords members which may pass by!
Another date for your diary. We have provisionally booked the March ramble for Wednesday 24th - same date as this month's. Anybody got any problems with the date ( apart from BT - but who threatens to join us for April)?
When we reach a hostelry I would like to talk seriously about the New Forest ramble in June.
Sandyballs
Monday, February 22, 2010
Monday, February 15, 2010
Valentine's Ramble?
Next Ramble is on the 24th of February meeting in Newhaven. I'm sure the weather will be fine and balmy.
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Janiary 2010s First Ramble - at last
N.E.R.D.S’ Ramble No 242 - 28/01/10.
The Ramble that Paco forgot.
Those Present - El Paco (Yes, really), Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Matt,
& Captain Haddock.
This was a rearranged ramble because of snow earlier in the month. The evening before, Lafayette thought it might be a good idea to ring up Paco to make sure he knew what his Nerding responsibilities were. However before he could get a word out Paco launched into an apologetic tirade about how sorry he was to have missed last week’s ramble cos he’d felt a bit poorly and how he promised faithfully to attend the next one - Grovel, grovel. Lafayette observed drily that actually he would have his chance the next day because obviously he’d got his dates muddled up (again).
Anyway, the next day Lafayette was waiting for a train at Newhaven station, amusing himself by reading Racine or something, when all of a sudden he was jerked out of his intellectual revery by the arrival of a scruffy looking individual hiding behind a blondish/greyish beard who looked vaguely familiar. Lafayette’s heart skipped a beat, his copy of French classical literature slid to the floor, “ Aaah,no, the bastard hasn’t come back to haunt me.” he thought, but on taking a closer look it turned out to be The Admiral who was obviously spending his retirement growing facial hair in a vain attempt to resemble his dead Belgian hero .
The Admiral and Lafayette boarded the 10. 35 to meet most of the rest of the NERDS
and travelled to Lewes to be picked up by Herr Generalissimo Routemeister, Sandyballs. The latter took one look at the Admiral, screamed loudly and said “God , you look just like Captain Haddock.” - and so the name stuck.
The NERDS trailed through Lewes, trying to look middle class and respectable (all except Sandyballs who liked to think of himself as being working class even though he did actually live there), and fetched up in ‘ Le Magasin’, a pretentious coffee house in Cliffe High Street. Over lattes and coffee mochas (see, I told you it was pretentious) Froggy told some dubious tale of how Bob at the Engineer used to leer at him and stroke his ‘Mr. Woody’ whenever Froggy walked into the pub. Matt rather liked this idea and resolved to go to see Bob more frequently.
To everyone’s dismay it was found that nobody had brought the whip with them. Everybody vaguely remembered that Lafayette had confiscated it from Froggy at the Christmas ramble when the latter had left the purse in the pub, but Lafayette couldn’t for the life of him remember where he had put it back at home. He fervently hoped he had put it in one of his fabulous Mughal copper pots - the one he usually kept his yellow embark cards in. And so El Paco paid for this round and claimed the money back later.
Finally we got to rambling.The route wended past Tesco’s, along the banks of
The Mighty Ouse in the direction of Hamsey. Underfoot it was muddy, very muddy and Routemeister covered his back against any compensation claims by alleging he had spelt out all the potential hazards in his joining instructions. Nobody took any notice of that but all secretly hoped Sandyballs would be the one to slip off the bank into the river.
Matt said provocatively that his other group never cancelled because of the weather, and Lafayette said that was because they were a lazy bunch of C***S who never actually went outside a pub (and who were aptly named after their stupid trousers.) The mud continued, we slipped and slid and eventually headed for the church at Hamsey where Sandyballs said he wanted to show us something spooky in the churchyard.
Just at this point we met up with a couple of ladies who also liked to get up to nefarious activities in dodgy graveyards. We didn’t get their names (Philby would have certainly done so) but Sandy balls dragged everyone over to some old, mouldering headstone which related how about four members of the same family managed to die in the same year. Either their dad was a serial killer who got fed up with his daughters coming to him for yet more money, lifts, jewellery etc or else they’d all died of starvation unaware that there was a branch of Waitrose not far off.
The ladies were both very impressed with Sandyballs’ conspiracy theories and headed off back to their car.
Some time after, just as the NERDS were heading in the direction of Oafham (sic) and thinking of foaming pints, Lafayette , Paco and Matt stumbled across the two ladies again. The attractive blonde one spontaneously began to tell Lafayette her whole life story - must have thought he had a sympathetic face - that she was a widow, had to look after two teenage boys and somebody’s grandpa, that she didn’t get out much and did he have lady members in his rambling group? Lafayette said that regretfully women only came rarely on NERDS’ rambles and then only in exceptional circumstances. (Like if they were shaggable like her ). Just then the others dragged Lafayette away before lust really took over and Sandyballs accused him of outrageous
pussymongering.“ Nonsense,” said Lafayette, “ Attractive widows need to be encouraged; you never know when you might need one.”
Anyway, on, on to the Chalk Pit Pub where the food and drink was found to be good and where the barmaid explained to us the intricacies of the Lewes Open Toad Playing Championships (yawn). Every body had a go but just succeeded in making an unholy racket in the pub and disturbing all the other diners. We missed Bronco and his large appetite here and wondered what he was getting up to. Plans were hatched for a trip to the New Forest although Matt said he didn’t want to come because he was having an exclusive 70th birthday party for people like Mike Clarke , and of course,the C***S.
Then things began to get a bit vague after most of the NERDS went off home leaving Sandyballs and Lafayette to drink rum and coke and poke the fire in the Lewes Arms.
It had been an eventful ramble and we hoped that Bronco and B.T. could join us in the near future.
So keep on NERDING and death to all other spurious groups. Lafayette.
The Ramble that Paco forgot.
Those Present - El Paco (Yes, really), Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Matt,
& Captain Haddock.
This was a rearranged ramble because of snow earlier in the month. The evening before, Lafayette thought it might be a good idea to ring up Paco to make sure he knew what his Nerding responsibilities were. However before he could get a word out Paco launched into an apologetic tirade about how sorry he was to have missed last week’s ramble cos he’d felt a bit poorly and how he promised faithfully to attend the next one - Grovel, grovel. Lafayette observed drily that actually he would have his chance the next day because obviously he’d got his dates muddled up (again).
Anyway, the next day Lafayette was waiting for a train at Newhaven station, amusing himself by reading Racine or something, when all of a sudden he was jerked out of his intellectual revery by the arrival of a scruffy looking individual hiding behind a blondish/greyish beard who looked vaguely familiar. Lafayette’s heart skipped a beat, his copy of French classical literature slid to the floor, “ Aaah,no, the bastard hasn’t come back to haunt me.” he thought, but on taking a closer look it turned out to be The Admiral who was obviously spending his retirement growing facial hair in a vain attempt to resemble his dead Belgian hero .
The Admiral and Lafayette boarded the 10. 35 to meet most of the rest of the NERDS
and travelled to Lewes to be picked up by Herr Generalissimo Routemeister, Sandyballs. The latter took one look at the Admiral, screamed loudly and said “God , you look just like Captain Haddock.” - and so the name stuck.
The NERDS trailed through Lewes, trying to look middle class and respectable (all except Sandyballs who liked to think of himself as being working class even though he did actually live there), and fetched up in ‘ Le Magasin’, a pretentious coffee house in Cliffe High Street. Over lattes and coffee mochas (see, I told you it was pretentious) Froggy told some dubious tale of how Bob at the Engineer used to leer at him and stroke his ‘Mr. Woody’ whenever Froggy walked into the pub. Matt rather liked this idea and resolved to go to see Bob more frequently.
To everyone’s dismay it was found that nobody had brought the whip with them. Everybody vaguely remembered that Lafayette had confiscated it from Froggy at the Christmas ramble when the latter had left the purse in the pub, but Lafayette couldn’t for the life of him remember where he had put it back at home. He fervently hoped he had put it in one of his fabulous Mughal copper pots - the one he usually kept his yellow embark cards in. And so El Paco paid for this round and claimed the money back later.
Finally we got to rambling.The route wended past Tesco’s, along the banks of
The Mighty Ouse in the direction of Hamsey. Underfoot it was muddy, very muddy and Routemeister covered his back against any compensation claims by alleging he had spelt out all the potential hazards in his joining instructions. Nobody took any notice of that but all secretly hoped Sandyballs would be the one to slip off the bank into the river.
Matt said provocatively that his other group never cancelled because of the weather, and Lafayette said that was because they were a lazy bunch of C***S who never actually went outside a pub (and who were aptly named after their stupid trousers.) The mud continued, we slipped and slid and eventually headed for the church at Hamsey where Sandyballs said he wanted to show us something spooky in the churchyard.
Just at this point we met up with a couple of ladies who also liked to get up to nefarious activities in dodgy graveyards. We didn’t get their names (Philby would have certainly done so) but Sandy balls dragged everyone over to some old, mouldering headstone which related how about four members of the same family managed to die in the same year. Either their dad was a serial killer who got fed up with his daughters coming to him for yet more money, lifts, jewellery etc or else they’d all died of starvation unaware that there was a branch of Waitrose not far off.
The ladies were both very impressed with Sandyballs’ conspiracy theories and headed off back to their car.
Some time after, just as the NERDS were heading in the direction of Oafham (sic) and thinking of foaming pints, Lafayette , Paco and Matt stumbled across the two ladies again. The attractive blonde one spontaneously began to tell Lafayette her whole life story - must have thought he had a sympathetic face - that she was a widow, had to look after two teenage boys and somebody’s grandpa, that she didn’t get out much and did he have lady members in his rambling group? Lafayette said that regretfully women only came rarely on NERDS’ rambles and then only in exceptional circumstances. (Like if they were shaggable like her ). Just then the others dragged Lafayette away before lust really took over and Sandyballs accused him of outrageous
pussymongering.“ Nonsense,” said Lafayette, “ Attractive widows need to be encouraged; you never know when you might need one.”
Anyway, on, on to the Chalk Pit Pub where the food and drink was found to be good and where the barmaid explained to us the intricacies of the Lewes Open Toad Playing Championships (yawn). Every body had a go but just succeeded in making an unholy racket in the pub and disturbing all the other diners. We missed Bronco and his large appetite here and wondered what he was getting up to. Plans were hatched for a trip to the New Forest although Matt said he didn’t want to come because he was having an exclusive 70th birthday party for people like Mike Clarke , and of course,the C***S.
Then things began to get a bit vague after most of the NERDS went off home leaving Sandyballs and Lafayette to drink rum and coke and poke the fire in the Lewes Arms.
It had been an eventful ramble and we hoped that Bronco and B.T. could join us in the near future.
So keep on NERDING and death to all other spurious groups. Lafayette.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Rearranged Ramble for January 2010
For the first time in history we were forced to abandon a Ramble because of weather this month. However, nil desperandum, the event has been rearranged to Thursday 28th. same route, same time - so the 10.25 from Seaford,etc. Let us see what the Almighty decides to send us for weather - Religious Advisor to do the needful, please.
We may as well think about the February Ramble. How about Wednesday 24th, for example. Anyone got problems with that?
See you all at Lewes station on 28/1.
Sandyballs
We may as well think about the February Ramble. How about Wednesday 24th, for example. Anyone got problems with that?
See you all at Lewes station on 28/1.
Sandyballs
Saturday, January 09, 2010
January Ramble posponed
Thw first ramble of the year was cancelled due to inclement weather and Sandyballs's toe. We await with baited breath when it will be reconvened at a date suitable. Is the year 2010 the year Sandyballs's direct catholic line to the creator is terminated or will the weather just improve!
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
1st Ramble of 2010
First puting for 2010 is on 6.1.2010 and commences from Lewes Station. Read your joing instructions for the full information. Have a super time 'you all' and hopefully you will not get snowed in until after you reach the pub.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
The Christmas Ramble 2009
N.E.R.D.S.’ Christmas Ramble, No. 241.
Wednesday 9th December 2009.
Those Present - Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Muscles Matt, Bronco, B.T.,
The Admiral, & El Paco.
Christmas reunion, the gathering of the NERDS clan - old faces, even older faces and some bloody ugly faces as well. Matt had recently returned from Dublin where it had been so expensive to even look into a tea shop let alone keep up with the high social standards there. The recession hadn’t, however, stopped The Admiral from rolling up in his posh, white BMW only rivalled by Sandyballs who had got himself a brand new Vauxhall Astra by selling Flintoff to child slavers in Morocco. (Doesn’t all that baby sitting just so get on your nerves?). B.T. had made a second sortie back from the Pyrenees where he had left behind his new life of hunting, shooting, fishing and shagging the President’s wife (god, she’s a slapper that Italian bitch), and Paco, well Paco had been forced out by his charming daughter who needed to put the budgie on the clothes line and beat the secondary cigar smoke out of its lungs.
The first dispute began on Berwick station where Lafayette accused Sandyballs of having stolen his yellow and black Rupert Bear scarf some time ago to reintroduce it in a pathetic attempt to rival the bit of green rag which Philby habitually wore round his neck. Sandyballs bristled at being compared sartorially to the lowly Belgian (well, you would, wouldn’t you?) and said huffily that he had always admired Rupert Bear anyway. Froggy assuaged the situation by bringing out his hip flask and thereby turning both Matt and Lafayette into life long fans of Sailor Jerry’s Rum (yum, yum!)
The route led along a cycle path to The Cricketers, a well known Sussex pub famed for its promotion of the game of Toads (Hence the name) and Harvey’s beer. Sandyballs and Lafayette had sussed out this pub during one of the preceding weeks and had both managed to get smashed on Bonfire Boy (No. Matt, not what you’re thinking…it‘s a drink). Today the place seemed to be full of nubile barmaids warming their backsides by the Christmas fire so Froggy tried to impress them by waving his orang- utang teeshirt about and saying it was almost an extinct species. Paco said he was wearing a Che Guevara teeshirt who himself was an extinct species on account of the fact he was dead. B.T.pricked up his ears at this and wondered about investing in a load of teeshirts with Philby on the front…..
Sandyballs whipped everybody outside as time was marching on and the Christmas dinner was waiting. We headed along the Old Coach Road where in days of yore highway men had roamed and virgins had lost their…..I- pods. Today, however , it was just shitty, murky and drizzly. Seasonal presents were discussed. Froggy said he hadn’t had sex for months so he’d bought Mrs. Froggy some stuffing for Christmas. Matt said he should have got her a digital pen for the modern librarian on the go. He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?
After a lot of… er walking we arrived at the Barley Mow at Selmeston where lunch was to take place. The last time we had been here was absolutely ages ago when the Mystery Guest had been sweet Emma Ryan in a big, daft hat (someone still has the photos somewhere). According to Sandyballs’ researches she has now grown up and is teaching flamenco dancing in Spain in an attempt to regain her language allowance.
Who was today’s Mystery Guest then ? Well funnily enough on entering the Barley Mow we all fell over Bronco who had skived out of the ramble and was sitting there enjoying a pint ; so faute de mieux he was made M.G. Bronco was pissed off that the NERDS had arrived; he had had two girlies, Claire and Madelaine, pandering to his every whim, fetching him drinks, laughing at his tales of winning the Derby and dating Princess Ann, and didn’t want the adoring atmosphere to be disturbed . Bad luck, cock ;the NERDS want their Christmas dinner!
And so we ate …and drank .. A bit and pulled crackers and told jokes and B.T. told us all about his mole problem(!) and how Morgane was and Bronco got golf tees in his cracker which Matt tried to prop up his testicles with and Sandyballs refused to eat any sprouts, as usual and we agreed that the food and the ambience was not as good as at the Pilot at Eastbourne but that the girlies had tried hard.
Eventually kicked out of the pub by Sandyballs cos we had a train to catch, we wandered through some more dank fields and byways until we got back to Berwick station where Froggy discovered he’d lost the French leather purse containing the whip! What a disaster! What incompetence! What a pillock! Froggy was so traumatised by its loss that he threatened to resign from the NERDS. There was a deafening silence until Bronco produced a mangled blue thing from his pocket and asked if this was what he had left behind on the pub table. Order was restored Froggy’s wrists were unslashed and we got on the train to Lewes.
Finally, a parting drink was had at the John Harvey Tavern in Lewes where B.T. was visited by one of his descendants and reluctantly had to hand over her dowry in advance. Still, at least she’s not making babies just yet (everyone has a chance , even old clapped out NERDS like El Paco.) and then, I think, we went home.
It had been a good ramble with a chance to see Old NERDS and those who were busy crumbling under the heavy weight of retirement. Poor old Admiral having to do all that lifeboat stuff at home now! So thanks to Sandyballs and Lafayette for preparing the route and to Froggy for losing the whip. Things can only get better in 2010.
Happy New Year.
Lafayette.
Wednesday 9th December 2009.
Those Present - Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Muscles Matt, Bronco, B.T.,
The Admiral, & El Paco.
Christmas reunion, the gathering of the NERDS clan - old faces, even older faces and some bloody ugly faces as well. Matt had recently returned from Dublin where it had been so expensive to even look into a tea shop let alone keep up with the high social standards there. The recession hadn’t, however, stopped The Admiral from rolling up in his posh, white BMW only rivalled by Sandyballs who had got himself a brand new Vauxhall Astra by selling Flintoff to child slavers in Morocco. (Doesn’t all that baby sitting just so get on your nerves?). B.T. had made a second sortie back from the Pyrenees where he had left behind his new life of hunting, shooting, fishing and shagging the President’s wife (god, she’s a slapper that Italian bitch), and Paco, well Paco had been forced out by his charming daughter who needed to put the budgie on the clothes line and beat the secondary cigar smoke out of its lungs.
The first dispute began on Berwick station where Lafayette accused Sandyballs of having stolen his yellow and black Rupert Bear scarf some time ago to reintroduce it in a pathetic attempt to rival the bit of green rag which Philby habitually wore round his neck. Sandyballs bristled at being compared sartorially to the lowly Belgian (well, you would, wouldn’t you?) and said huffily that he had always admired Rupert Bear anyway. Froggy assuaged the situation by bringing out his hip flask and thereby turning both Matt and Lafayette into life long fans of Sailor Jerry’s Rum (yum, yum!)
The route led along a cycle path to The Cricketers, a well known Sussex pub famed for its promotion of the game of Toads (Hence the name) and Harvey’s beer. Sandyballs and Lafayette had sussed out this pub during one of the preceding weeks and had both managed to get smashed on Bonfire Boy (No. Matt, not what you’re thinking…it‘s a drink). Today the place seemed to be full of nubile barmaids warming their backsides by the Christmas fire so Froggy tried to impress them by waving his orang- utang teeshirt about and saying it was almost an extinct species. Paco said he was wearing a Che Guevara teeshirt who himself was an extinct species on account of the fact he was dead. B.T.pricked up his ears at this and wondered about investing in a load of teeshirts with Philby on the front…..
Sandyballs whipped everybody outside as time was marching on and the Christmas dinner was waiting. We headed along the Old Coach Road where in days of yore highway men had roamed and virgins had lost their…..I- pods. Today, however , it was just shitty, murky and drizzly. Seasonal presents were discussed. Froggy said he hadn’t had sex for months so he’d bought Mrs. Froggy some stuffing for Christmas. Matt said he should have got her a digital pen for the modern librarian on the go. He’s so thoughtful, isn’t he?
After a lot of… er walking we arrived at the Barley Mow at Selmeston where lunch was to take place. The last time we had been here was absolutely ages ago when the Mystery Guest had been sweet Emma Ryan in a big, daft hat (someone still has the photos somewhere). According to Sandyballs’ researches she has now grown up and is teaching flamenco dancing in Spain in an attempt to regain her language allowance.
Who was today’s Mystery Guest then ? Well funnily enough on entering the Barley Mow we all fell over Bronco who had skived out of the ramble and was sitting there enjoying a pint ; so faute de mieux he was made M.G. Bronco was pissed off that the NERDS had arrived; he had had two girlies, Claire and Madelaine, pandering to his every whim, fetching him drinks, laughing at his tales of winning the Derby and dating Princess Ann, and didn’t want the adoring atmosphere to be disturbed . Bad luck, cock ;the NERDS want their Christmas dinner!
And so we ate …and drank .. A bit and pulled crackers and told jokes and B.T. told us all about his mole problem(!) and how Morgane was and Bronco got golf tees in his cracker which Matt tried to prop up his testicles with and Sandyballs refused to eat any sprouts, as usual and we agreed that the food and the ambience was not as good as at the Pilot at Eastbourne but that the girlies had tried hard.
Eventually kicked out of the pub by Sandyballs cos we had a train to catch, we wandered through some more dank fields and byways until we got back to Berwick station where Froggy discovered he’d lost the French leather purse containing the whip! What a disaster! What incompetence! What a pillock! Froggy was so traumatised by its loss that he threatened to resign from the NERDS. There was a deafening silence until Bronco produced a mangled blue thing from his pocket and asked if this was what he had left behind on the pub table. Order was restored Froggy’s wrists were unslashed and we got on the train to Lewes.
Finally, a parting drink was had at the John Harvey Tavern in Lewes where B.T. was visited by one of his descendants and reluctantly had to hand over her dowry in advance. Still, at least she’s not making babies just yet (everyone has a chance , even old clapped out NERDS like El Paco.) and then, I think, we went home.
It had been a good ramble with a chance to see Old NERDS and those who were busy crumbling under the heavy weight of retirement. Poor old Admiral having to do all that lifeboat stuff at home now! So thanks to Sandyballs and Lafayette for preparing the route and to Froggy for losing the whip. Things can only get better in 2010.
Happy New Year.
Lafayette.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Sunday, November 15, 2009
NERDS’ Ramble No 240 - 11/11/09.
The Armistice Ramble
Those Present - Paco, Matt, Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Bronco.
This was to be a Remembrance ramble when the NERDS remembered fallen comrades …..well, there was just one and he had only fallen into bad company. Sadly he was no more and so Froggy (yet again Routemaster) decided we should have two minutes silence at 11 o’clock. The rest of the NERDS thought this was a brilliant idea since if nothing else it would stop Froggy from blethering on about bugger all for a short time.
And so under Froggy’s remarkable tutelage we met at Seaford where even Paco turned up clutching his bus pass for today’s excellent adventure. The idea was to go to Beachy Head (or near there, and not because we were all feeling depressed) and ramble downhill towards Eastbourne. So we got on the bus contemptuously waving our passes in Froggy’s face and scrambled upstairs to get the best seats. By the time Froggy appeared, having actually to have paid for his ticket, it was 11 o’clock. Goody, goody, he couldn’t moan at his parents laxity in making him younger than everyone else at this point. There was a silence but the bus failed to move off. Apparently Froggy had had a word with the driver, appealed to his conscience, given him some sob story about Philby or something and made him delay departing until 11 02 hrs.
The NERDS were all impressed, fancy holding up the Seaford public transport just in memory of some renegade NERD. Respect!
We started walking at the top of Eastbourne cliff. It was pleasantly sunny weather with a good view of the town below. Bronco told Lafayette that he had bought 3 different wax jackets recently in a BOGOF deal. Lafayette pointed out that he had only got 3 jackets instead of 4 but Bronco said they only had 3 different colours (!)
Lafayette couldn’t quite see the logic here but bowed to Bronco’s greater business sense.
Eventually we descended to The Pilot Inn at St. Bedes for lunch, a place known to both Matt and Froggy as serving good food. It was good. There was a wide array of beers and the food was excellent - lamb shanks all round except for Lafayette who had a really superb chicken and leak pie. Sandyballs noted that this was the first time no-one had had chips with their meal, something which grieved him muchly since he couldn’t hoover up the leftovers. Discussion turned to who should be the Christmas Mystery Guest this year, and the most popular choice was ‘that count Neil’ (have I misspelled that?) of S.B who had tried to stitch up Bronco for drink driving. Bronco, being a good Christian said that Neil would be very welcome but that he intended personally to crucify him for his sins.
Then we moved on down towards Eastbourne proper through a parky walky seafronty bit where we discussed the sad (non) affair which had occurred between Philby and one Cathryn Orpin. Paco said she hadn’t used to wear a bra and perhaps this had been her allure; Matt said Froggy didn’t wear a bra but Philby hadn’t gone chasing after him. Anyway it had all happened a long time ago and as usual had ended in tears.
There were lots of wooden benches along this bit of the walk - mostly commemorating dead people - no comment - but we finally found ourselves in The Buccaneer, a seemingly gayish pub which overlooked some cricket ground and where we sat at a round table and continued the discussion about the potential Mystery Guest. Lafayette wanted to get Usain Bolt, his big hero, but thought he might cost too much. Paco wanted to have Susan Doyle but that was vetoed because she was too hairy. Matt wanted to have Ronny Rebeiro but he too was vetoed on the grounds that he would eat too much. Someone did have the temerity to mention that the identity of the MG ought to remain perhaps a mystery until the Christmas Ramble but nobody had thought of that.
Anyway we ended up wandering through respectable Eastbourne (no hoodies here) looking for a bus home. There weren’t any chip shops here -too common, you see -so Sandyballs had to wait until Seaford to sate his jaded appetite.
As Matt said, Froggy had taken us to the edge of Paradise with this ramble, and he had! Maybe we could have half an hour’s silence next time (especially if Baby Flintoff is MG and goes to sleep on Sandyballs’ lap). Next ramble is the Christmas one; Lf and SB are sussing it out around the pubs already.
See you all.
Lafayette.
The Armistice Ramble
Those Present - Paco, Matt, Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Bronco.
This was to be a Remembrance ramble when the NERDS remembered fallen comrades …..well, there was just one and he had only fallen into bad company. Sadly he was no more and so Froggy (yet again Routemaster) decided we should have two minutes silence at 11 o’clock. The rest of the NERDS thought this was a brilliant idea since if nothing else it would stop Froggy from blethering on about bugger all for a short time.
And so under Froggy’s remarkable tutelage we met at Seaford where even Paco turned up clutching his bus pass for today’s excellent adventure. The idea was to go to Beachy Head (or near there, and not because we were all feeling depressed) and ramble downhill towards Eastbourne. So we got on the bus contemptuously waving our passes in Froggy’s face and scrambled upstairs to get the best seats. By the time Froggy appeared, having actually to have paid for his ticket, it was 11 o’clock. Goody, goody, he couldn’t moan at his parents laxity in making him younger than everyone else at this point. There was a silence but the bus failed to move off. Apparently Froggy had had a word with the driver, appealed to his conscience, given him some sob story about Philby or something and made him delay departing until 11 02 hrs.
The NERDS were all impressed, fancy holding up the Seaford public transport just in memory of some renegade NERD. Respect!
We started walking at the top of Eastbourne cliff. It was pleasantly sunny weather with a good view of the town below. Bronco told Lafayette that he had bought 3 different wax jackets recently in a BOGOF deal. Lafayette pointed out that he had only got 3 jackets instead of 4 but Bronco said they only had 3 different colours (!)
Lafayette couldn’t quite see the logic here but bowed to Bronco’s greater business sense.
Eventually we descended to The Pilot Inn at St. Bedes for lunch, a place known to both Matt and Froggy as serving good food. It was good. There was a wide array of beers and the food was excellent - lamb shanks all round except for Lafayette who had a really superb chicken and leak pie. Sandyballs noted that this was the first time no-one had had chips with their meal, something which grieved him muchly since he couldn’t hoover up the leftovers. Discussion turned to who should be the Christmas Mystery Guest this year, and the most popular choice was ‘that count Neil’ (have I misspelled that?) of S.B who had tried to stitch up Bronco for drink driving. Bronco, being a good Christian said that Neil would be very welcome but that he intended personally to crucify him for his sins.
Then we moved on down towards Eastbourne proper through a parky walky seafronty bit where we discussed the sad (non) affair which had occurred between Philby and one Cathryn Orpin. Paco said she hadn’t used to wear a bra and perhaps this had been her allure; Matt said Froggy didn’t wear a bra but Philby hadn’t gone chasing after him. Anyway it had all happened a long time ago and as usual had ended in tears.
There were lots of wooden benches along this bit of the walk - mostly commemorating dead people - no comment - but we finally found ourselves in The Buccaneer, a seemingly gayish pub which overlooked some cricket ground and where we sat at a round table and continued the discussion about the potential Mystery Guest. Lafayette wanted to get Usain Bolt, his big hero, but thought he might cost too much. Paco wanted to have Susan Doyle but that was vetoed because she was too hairy. Matt wanted to have Ronny Rebeiro but he too was vetoed on the grounds that he would eat too much. Someone did have the temerity to mention that the identity of the MG ought to remain perhaps a mystery until the Christmas Ramble but nobody had thought of that.
Anyway we ended up wandering through respectable Eastbourne (no hoodies here) looking for a bus home. There weren’t any chip shops here -too common, you see -so Sandyballs had to wait until Seaford to sate his jaded appetite.
As Matt said, Froggy had taken us to the edge of Paradise with this ramble, and he had! Maybe we could have half an hour’s silence next time (especially if Baby Flintoff is MG and goes to sleep on Sandyballs’ lap). Next ramble is the Christmas one; Lf and SB are sussing it out around the pubs already.
See you all.
Lafayette.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
November Ramble on the 11th
This went off very well according to Froggy who has taken a few photographs which I will attach soon.
Regards BT
Regards BT
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
Change of Moderator
As I'm so busy in France at the moment and I cannot be back in the UK until December I have relinquished the overall command of the "Blog" to Froggy, to see how he gets on. Await developments!!
Sunday, November 01, 2009
NERDS’ Ramble 239 - 28th Oct. 2009.
Those Present - B.T. Froggy, Bronco, Sandyballs, Matt, Lafayette (& Others)
The Freddie Ramble.
Today Sandyballs couldn’t do the ramble because he had bollocksed up his foot in York. (Something to do with lots of drinking at an ISU Union meeting and being pushed off a pavement by Sean Raggett). And so, in a panic, he had not only thrust the heavy burden of organising the ramble on to Froggy, but had telephoned Interpol in the Pyrenees to have B.T. torn away from his home comforts and despatched to Newhaven to make up the numbers.
Bronco too was with us this day so Froggy decided it might not be a good idea to go up and down the fifty odd hills in Sussex like we usually do for a bit of fun, but to keep it short, keep it sweet and make sure we got to the pub well in time for lunch.
B.T. started to be awkward claiming that he had obtained his presently svelte figure from a daily dose of sprinting up and down the Pyrenee at the bottom of his garden and hadn’t come all this way just to pussyfoot around. So Froggy ignored him and ordered everyone on to the bus from Seaford to East Dean.
Some of us had to pay for this privilege (ha, ha) while the other (bus pass holders) claimed their free Human Rights and rushed upstairs to bag the best seats. When we arrived Froggy saw a couple of girlie ramblers get off the bus at the same time clearly intent on following the NERDS and basking in their fame and sexual attraction. Sadly, Froggy’s poor attempt to capitalise on this groupie opportunity came to nought when they heard him say loudly that he fancied shagging the good looking one but wouldn’t touch her mate with his own worn out bog-brush.
The weather was dull, the sheep had shat all over the fields and there we were tramping after a couple of miffed women who were not only following our route but looked as if they were going to have lunch at the same pub as us. Quel embarras! However Matt livened up the proceedings by letting slip that the Mystery Guest on the Christmas Ramble this year was going to be …..none other than Jordan …Wow!
Visions of this fantastic guest at dinner with everyone hanging off her…..every word
Made us all cheerful again. Then Bronco punctured the balloon(s) by saying he’d heard it was only Ian Jordan and that was only if he could tear himself away from the other numerous office parties he seemed to be heavily involved in.
Within sight of Belle Toute Lighthouse the NERDS descended a Seven Sister and saw to their dismay that The Birling Gap ie. the pub lunch rendezvous, was besieged by large numbers of caravans, cameras, gophers, and film stars themselves threatening to try to eclipse the NERDS by making a film where we were going to be eating (and drinking). When we got to the pub someone said that these NERDS’ hangers on were supposedly filming a remake of Brighton Rock so Matt suggested we all do our own film in opposition using ourselves , all the barmaids in the pub , the pub dog and some special posing pouches he just happened to have with him. His offer was declined.
Apparently all these famous acting types, the ones in this stupid film outside, had brought all their own scoff, all their own posing pouches, all their own catamites and even all their own lavatory paper with them in order not to have to mix with the local hoi polloi and the world famous NERDS. The Birling Gap, however had made an absolute fortune by renting out its pub car park to them for the duration so at least they would have a good view of the world famous NERDS dining in all their charisma.
The food was very good here and so was the drink - all NERDS approved - and Lafayette tried out his fluent Hungarian on the petite barmaid, called Melinda before telephoning Sandyballs at home to update him on all the exciting developments at the pub. (I mean about all the great food and drink he was missing because he was rolling aroung groaning about some ingrown toenail or something - not about the poncy film crew type people who were falling over themselves to offer us key parts in their crummy film). Sandyballs murmured something vague about coming along with all the family, and that it was not in contravention of NERDS’ Rules because they hadn’t actually rambled with us and they had paid their NERDS’ subscription and they couldn’t leave the baby at home anyway, could they? ……….. Baby, wot baby?
And so Sandyballs eventually turned up with Mrs Sandyballs, daughter Sandyballs and Baby Freddie ( now known by his NERDS’ name as Flintoff). Flintoff was very cutchy coo and very well behaved, he drank his Harveys like a good boy and said that his mom had liked being Mystery Guest last year but didn’t fancy being on the same table as that slut Jordan this year. He said that his grandma was very beautiful and that he loved her very much as long as she was going to leave him all her diamonds and things. He said also that his grandpa was a big nesh pillock who kept falling off his bike and getting his gouty feet stamped on because he drank too much, then he smiled,
said he liked Lafayette best of all the NERDS and went to sleep. We were all entranced at our new mini NERD.
After the Sandyballs family had taken Baby Flintoff back home we set off back along the road to find out why The Tiger at East Dean was closed to the NERDS that day. On the way we were passed by Hungarian barmaids - big and small, and took lots of rests so that Froggy as Routemaster wouldn’t get lost (or tired). Matt led us to The Tiger and found out it was reopening the next day (Just our luck!) Then we all got on the free (oops) bus back to Seaford and Newhaven.
It had been a very pleasant ramble thanks to the excellent guidance of Froggy and to the surprise appearance of Baby Flintoff who may take over as Managing Director of the NERDS one day. Let’s hope Sandyballs’ feet sort themselves out soon and that B.T. gets back safely to his Pyrenee in France.
Goo goo to all.
Lafayette.
Those Present - B.T. Froggy, Bronco, Sandyballs, Matt, Lafayette (& Others)
The Freddie Ramble.
Today Sandyballs couldn’t do the ramble because he had bollocksed up his foot in York. (Something to do with lots of drinking at an ISU Union meeting and being pushed off a pavement by Sean Raggett). And so, in a panic, he had not only thrust the heavy burden of organising the ramble on to Froggy, but had telephoned Interpol in the Pyrenees to have B.T. torn away from his home comforts and despatched to Newhaven to make up the numbers.
Bronco too was with us this day so Froggy decided it might not be a good idea to go up and down the fifty odd hills in Sussex like we usually do for a bit of fun, but to keep it short, keep it sweet and make sure we got to the pub well in time for lunch.
B.T. started to be awkward claiming that he had obtained his presently svelte figure from a daily dose of sprinting up and down the Pyrenee at the bottom of his garden and hadn’t come all this way just to pussyfoot around. So Froggy ignored him and ordered everyone on to the bus from Seaford to East Dean.
Some of us had to pay for this privilege (ha, ha) while the other (bus pass holders) claimed their free Human Rights and rushed upstairs to bag the best seats. When we arrived Froggy saw a couple of girlie ramblers get off the bus at the same time clearly intent on following the NERDS and basking in their fame and sexual attraction. Sadly, Froggy’s poor attempt to capitalise on this groupie opportunity came to nought when they heard him say loudly that he fancied shagging the good looking one but wouldn’t touch her mate with his own worn out bog-brush.
The weather was dull, the sheep had shat all over the fields and there we were tramping after a couple of miffed women who were not only following our route but looked as if they were going to have lunch at the same pub as us. Quel embarras! However Matt livened up the proceedings by letting slip that the Mystery Guest on the Christmas Ramble this year was going to be …..none other than Jordan …Wow!
Visions of this fantastic guest at dinner with everyone hanging off her…..every word
Made us all cheerful again. Then Bronco punctured the balloon(s) by saying he’d heard it was only Ian Jordan and that was only if he could tear himself away from the other numerous office parties he seemed to be heavily involved in.
Within sight of Belle Toute Lighthouse the NERDS descended a Seven Sister and saw to their dismay that The Birling Gap ie. the pub lunch rendezvous, was besieged by large numbers of caravans, cameras, gophers, and film stars themselves threatening to try to eclipse the NERDS by making a film where we were going to be eating (and drinking). When we got to the pub someone said that these NERDS’ hangers on were supposedly filming a remake of Brighton Rock so Matt suggested we all do our own film in opposition using ourselves , all the barmaids in the pub , the pub dog and some special posing pouches he just happened to have with him. His offer was declined.
Apparently all these famous acting types, the ones in this stupid film outside, had brought all their own scoff, all their own posing pouches, all their own catamites and even all their own lavatory paper with them in order not to have to mix with the local hoi polloi and the world famous NERDS. The Birling Gap, however had made an absolute fortune by renting out its pub car park to them for the duration so at least they would have a good view of the world famous NERDS dining in all their charisma.
The food was very good here and so was the drink - all NERDS approved - and Lafayette tried out his fluent Hungarian on the petite barmaid, called Melinda before telephoning Sandyballs at home to update him on all the exciting developments at the pub. (I mean about all the great food and drink he was missing because he was rolling aroung groaning about some ingrown toenail or something - not about the poncy film crew type people who were falling over themselves to offer us key parts in their crummy film). Sandyballs murmured something vague about coming along with all the family, and that it was not in contravention of NERDS’ Rules because they hadn’t actually rambled with us and they had paid their NERDS’ subscription and they couldn’t leave the baby at home anyway, could they? ……….. Baby, wot baby?
And so Sandyballs eventually turned up with Mrs Sandyballs, daughter Sandyballs and Baby Freddie ( now known by his NERDS’ name as Flintoff). Flintoff was very cutchy coo and very well behaved, he drank his Harveys like a good boy and said that his mom had liked being Mystery Guest last year but didn’t fancy being on the same table as that slut Jordan this year. He said that his grandma was very beautiful and that he loved her very much as long as she was going to leave him all her diamonds and things. He said also that his grandpa was a big nesh pillock who kept falling off his bike and getting his gouty feet stamped on because he drank too much, then he smiled,
said he liked Lafayette best of all the NERDS and went to sleep. We were all entranced at our new mini NERD.
After the Sandyballs family had taken Baby Flintoff back home we set off back along the road to find out why The Tiger at East Dean was closed to the NERDS that day. On the way we were passed by Hungarian barmaids - big and small, and took lots of rests so that Froggy as Routemaster wouldn’t get lost (or tired). Matt led us to The Tiger and found out it was reopening the next day (Just our luck!) Then we all got on the free (oops) bus back to Seaford and Newhaven.
It had been a very pleasant ramble thanks to the excellent guidance of Froggy and to the surprise appearance of Baby Flintoff who may take over as Managing Director of the NERDS one day. Let’s hope Sandyballs’ feet sort themselves out soon and that B.T. gets back safely to his Pyrenee in France.
Goo goo to all.
Lafayette.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Bad Trains Ramble
THE N.E.R.D.S. - Ramble No 238.
Wed. 24th September 2009.
Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Bronco, Paco, Matt.
The Bad Trains Ramble
Amazingly enough, El Paco had turned up for this ramble. This, it has to be said, was only as a result of Lafayette making sure the appointment was in Paco’s diary, then ringing him up every few hours to ensure he hadn’t forgotten, and finally sleeping on his very doorstep and banging on his front door at 6 am to ensure he got up and got moving. Never had so much effort been made since someone had once tried to prise Philby out of a Dieppe bar to work his way back on a crossing. (Poor Philby - requiescat and all that)
Paco was accompanied on the train from Seaford not only by various professional NERDS who always get up for their rambles but by his delightful daughter, Lara, who Lafayette thought might have been standing in as Paco’s NERD’S handmaiden ie. to
whip him around the course and to keep him from falling asleep. Sadly she was only going off to college to better herself and stop her falling into the job trap of becoming an I.O. when she grew up.
However, whilst waiting at Lewes for the train to The South Coast, Lafayette went to pay for his coffee in Vick’s caff and was treated to a rendition of a selection of Vick’s awful poems. Apparently, late in life, Vick must have found a woman close to his heart and had started writing love crap to her to try and get into her knickers. Does all this sound a touch familiar? It might do when I mention that the famous poet Philby thought he was a friend of Vick’s and because of the similarity of his name to one of Philby’s wannabe lovers may just have bored Vick with outpourings of his own unrequited love. (Poor Philby, requiescat and all that again).
Lafayette sighed and wished that true love would sod off and die somewhere. Rambles were what was important, and getting to the start of them (on the same day) was fairly important. Sadly things do not always go strictly to plan…..
The NERDS boarded the right train (phew!) and planned to get off at Norman’s Bay. Unfortunately since we were not in the first 3 coaches, and since the guard never thought to come and tell us personally, we couldn’t get out where Sandyballs had planned and were whisked off to Cooden Beach instead. O Desastre! O Quelle Fatalite! We were lost already and we hadn’t really gone a step. Luckily Sandyballs is a master of innovation and flexibility so instead of weeping or writing poetry or panicking, he just calmly announced that he would re-arrange things and that we should go for a drink while he thought things out.
And so we spent a very pleasant hour or so lounging around the sunny exterior of
The Cooden Beach Hotel sitting at a beach table and pissing off the residents with our loud, boorish conversation. Matt complained first of all that he couldn’t see the sea, but shut up when he was told he could actually go home to Seaford to do that. Paco said he was more than qualified to be the new leader of the Liberal Democrats because he had shagged more women in his youth than the present incumbent. Lafayette pointed out you were also supposed to be somewhat right wing and wear lots of orange to achieve such high office. Matt then said he was disappointed that the Engineer (pub) hadn’t started off its Nudist Evenings, as (allegedly) promised by Bob (landlord). Bronco mumbled something about such things not being compatible with both NERDS’morality and the current wild darts evenings - for obvious reasons. As you can see, the conversation was starting to go downhill so Sandyballs decided to be flexible and innovative and make us ramble.
We hiked along the coast road picking blackberries and sloes as we went. Most of these had already been poisoned by the passing traffic but why should we care; a good bottle of gin would soon sort that out. Sandyballs kept ringing up Simon, a Mystery Guest he had been begging for weeks to come along, but she said she was washing her (red) hair that day and couldn’t come. So we trudged Mystery Guestless along country roads until we arrived at The Star Inn Carvery at er.. Normans Bay.
We bagged our usual round table (not that Sandyballs even remotely resembles King Arthur) and queued up at the bar and the carvery. The staff that day seemed to consist of a couple of Romanians and one put upon African who obviously failed to suspect our true professions (well those of some of us at any rate). The food was ample, good and cheapish, and the beer was OK so what more could we want? Well, Paco did rather hope he might get served before going home time that day, you see he’d ordered the huge gut buster, mixed grill, all day mega meal to try to rival Bronco in the race to be nominated as Greediest NERDS Bastard Of The Year. When this finally arrived Paco suddenly found a lessening of appetite (something to do with eyes being bigger than stomachs), however he was helped out by his half starved colleagues and the food did not go to waste.
Eventually moving outside again to take our digetifs - gin, tonic and no filthy sloes this time, we sat at a pleasant table and listened to Paco (him again) expounding on the History of The Labour Party and Ramsay MacDonald - and you all thought he had pretensions to be a right wing Lib Dem, ha, ha. It was now that due to an excess in heavy puddings that Sandyballs thought we should all go for a post prandial ramblette to visit some lost village or something. So off we went across some pleasant fields in the late afternoon sun and never found this village cos it was lost - see. But an inspiring bit of exercise none the less.
So then we made our way to the railway station to get the 16. 40 train (all carefully organised, you see) but as we rounded the last corner we saw our train spitefully draw out of the station leaving the NERDS foaming and ranting in the middle of the road.
What was going on? Sandyballs had carefully calculated everything so that we should be home well in time for Countdown and now this! Apparently some selfish person had done the usual and hurled himself off a bridge just because his wife didn’t understand him any more (boring cow) and all the trains were delayed.
Well, as it was still a pleasant, sunny afternoon we hung around the station for about half an hour talking bike bollocks to a cyclist who had likewise been affected by today’s domestic drama in Hastings or wherever, and then got on to the next train purporting to be heading homewards. But, of course, it didn’t. For some reason it went only to Eastbourne. Why? Why? Why? We were never to find out.
So cursing the pitiful railway system of Sussex most of us took the bus back to go home and watch Countdown. The rambles had been OK thanks to Sandyballs and his ingenuity, and the weather had been glorious for September. Lafayette thought he would leave Froggy alone in this write-up since he had a different NERD to write about this month and six NERDS all together at the same time was something of a rarity these days.
Perhaps we should all have gone to visit Philby that day and read poetry to him - but on second thoughts I’m sure he would have understood our compelling desire to go off and booze in a pub (or two) somewhere.
Life is short. Get Nerding.
Lafayette.
Wed. 24th September 2009.
Those Present - Sandyballs, Lafayette, Froggy, Bronco, Paco, Matt.
The Bad Trains Ramble
Amazingly enough, El Paco had turned up for this ramble. This, it has to be said, was only as a result of Lafayette making sure the appointment was in Paco’s diary, then ringing him up every few hours to ensure he hadn’t forgotten, and finally sleeping on his very doorstep and banging on his front door at 6 am to ensure he got up and got moving. Never had so much effort been made since someone had once tried to prise Philby out of a Dieppe bar to work his way back on a crossing. (Poor Philby - requiescat and all that)
Paco was accompanied on the train from Seaford not only by various professional NERDS who always get up for their rambles but by his delightful daughter, Lara, who Lafayette thought might have been standing in as Paco’s NERD’S handmaiden ie. to
whip him around the course and to keep him from falling asleep. Sadly she was only going off to college to better herself and stop her falling into the job trap of becoming an I.O. when she grew up.
However, whilst waiting at Lewes for the train to The South Coast, Lafayette went to pay for his coffee in Vick’s caff and was treated to a rendition of a selection of Vick’s awful poems. Apparently, late in life, Vick must have found a woman close to his heart and had started writing love crap to her to try and get into her knickers. Does all this sound a touch familiar? It might do when I mention that the famous poet Philby thought he was a friend of Vick’s and because of the similarity of his name to one of Philby’s wannabe lovers may just have bored Vick with outpourings of his own unrequited love. (Poor Philby, requiescat and all that again).
Lafayette sighed and wished that true love would sod off and die somewhere. Rambles were what was important, and getting to the start of them (on the same day) was fairly important. Sadly things do not always go strictly to plan…..
The NERDS boarded the right train (phew!) and planned to get off at Norman’s Bay. Unfortunately since we were not in the first 3 coaches, and since the guard never thought to come and tell us personally, we couldn’t get out where Sandyballs had planned and were whisked off to Cooden Beach instead. O Desastre! O Quelle Fatalite! We were lost already and we hadn’t really gone a step. Luckily Sandyballs is a master of innovation and flexibility so instead of weeping or writing poetry or panicking, he just calmly announced that he would re-arrange things and that we should go for a drink while he thought things out.
And so we spent a very pleasant hour or so lounging around the sunny exterior of
The Cooden Beach Hotel sitting at a beach table and pissing off the residents with our loud, boorish conversation. Matt complained first of all that he couldn’t see the sea, but shut up when he was told he could actually go home to Seaford to do that. Paco said he was more than qualified to be the new leader of the Liberal Democrats because he had shagged more women in his youth than the present incumbent. Lafayette pointed out you were also supposed to be somewhat right wing and wear lots of orange to achieve such high office. Matt then said he was disappointed that the Engineer (pub) hadn’t started off its Nudist Evenings, as (allegedly) promised by Bob (landlord). Bronco mumbled something about such things not being compatible with both NERDS’morality and the current wild darts evenings - for obvious reasons. As you can see, the conversation was starting to go downhill so Sandyballs decided to be flexible and innovative and make us ramble.
We hiked along the coast road picking blackberries and sloes as we went. Most of these had already been poisoned by the passing traffic but why should we care; a good bottle of gin would soon sort that out. Sandyballs kept ringing up Simon, a Mystery Guest he had been begging for weeks to come along, but she said she was washing her (red) hair that day and couldn’t come. So we trudged Mystery Guestless along country roads until we arrived at The Star Inn Carvery at er.. Normans Bay.
We bagged our usual round table (not that Sandyballs even remotely resembles King Arthur) and queued up at the bar and the carvery. The staff that day seemed to consist of a couple of Romanians and one put upon African who obviously failed to suspect our true professions (well those of some of us at any rate). The food was ample, good and cheapish, and the beer was OK so what more could we want? Well, Paco did rather hope he might get served before going home time that day, you see he’d ordered the huge gut buster, mixed grill, all day mega meal to try to rival Bronco in the race to be nominated as Greediest NERDS Bastard Of The Year. When this finally arrived Paco suddenly found a lessening of appetite (something to do with eyes being bigger than stomachs), however he was helped out by his half starved colleagues and the food did not go to waste.
Eventually moving outside again to take our digetifs - gin, tonic and no filthy sloes this time, we sat at a pleasant table and listened to Paco (him again) expounding on the History of The Labour Party and Ramsay MacDonald - and you all thought he had pretensions to be a right wing Lib Dem, ha, ha. It was now that due to an excess in heavy puddings that Sandyballs thought we should all go for a post prandial ramblette to visit some lost village or something. So off we went across some pleasant fields in the late afternoon sun and never found this village cos it was lost - see. But an inspiring bit of exercise none the less.
So then we made our way to the railway station to get the 16. 40 train (all carefully organised, you see) but as we rounded the last corner we saw our train spitefully draw out of the station leaving the NERDS foaming and ranting in the middle of the road.
What was going on? Sandyballs had carefully calculated everything so that we should be home well in time for Countdown and now this! Apparently some selfish person had done the usual and hurled himself off a bridge just because his wife didn’t understand him any more (boring cow) and all the trains were delayed.
Well, as it was still a pleasant, sunny afternoon we hung around the station for about half an hour talking bike bollocks to a cyclist who had likewise been affected by today’s domestic drama in Hastings or wherever, and then got on to the next train purporting to be heading homewards. But, of course, it didn’t. For some reason it went only to Eastbourne. Why? Why? Why? We were never to find out.
So cursing the pitiful railway system of Sussex most of us took the bus back to go home and watch Countdown. The rambles had been OK thanks to Sandyballs and his ingenuity, and the weather had been glorious for September. Lafayette thought he would leave Froggy alone in this write-up since he had a different NERD to write about this month and six NERDS all together at the same time was something of a rarity these days.
Perhaps we should all have gone to visit Philby that day and read poetry to him - but on second thoughts I’m sure he would have understood our compelling desire to go off and booze in a pub (or two) somewhere.
Life is short. Get Nerding.
Lafayette.
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