April 2013 Ramble!

NERDS' Ramble No. 281 - 10th March 2013.


Those Present – Froggy, Paco, Matt, Lafayette, Sandyballs and Bronco.

The Froggy Non-Ramble.

The NERDS were now well into the run-up to Froggy's grand retirement, and as a special honour were allowing him to be in charge of today's ramble. Given Froggy's reputation for getting everything dead well organised we were all eagerly anticipating a long walk, a good meal and lots of drinks. Well, in the end I suppose two out of three might not have been bad going.

The joining instructions for once were unambiguous – all meet at Seaford station. Fine, no problems so far. Froggy led us in the general direction of The Boot which he had thoughtfully ascertained would be open at the present unsociable hour. We decided to drink outside to get away from all the Old Trouts who, even at that early hour, were clogging up the pub to drink tea, or whatever Old Trouts drink in the morning.

Outside all the seats were covered in the previous night's rain, so after Matt had insisted we move tables about three times we settled down with our pints to discuss matters of great import. Sandyballs reported that he had ordered the teeshirts for the 25th celebration ramble and they would cost us each a huge amount for the privilege of owning one.  Moan, moan, still it had to be done. Next, he said Madame The Home Secretary had once again personally invited him to take over the running of Gatwick South Immigration control that summer for the princely sum of £18 per hour. Meanwhile she, as supervising officer, would sit around in the tea room on a salary of about £150 grand with her feet up  drinking wine. Lafayette applauded this and said he thought Madame Home Sec was obviously a decent type of manager who knew how to get the best out of her staff.

Paco who was distraught at the recent death of Baroness Thatcher sobbed that he would be unable to attend her funeral if we all cleared off to Spain in the near future, so Sandyballs said he'd have a private word with Madame Home Sec. and see what he could do about getting him a personal invite. Froggy availed himself of the opportunity given him to speak by the “ talking beer mug” (no vases of nasturtiums this month) and said we all ought to drink up and carry on rambling. No-one took a blind bit of notice  so Froggy went off and got another round in.

While Froggy was away, Matt put on his meany meany gloves ( the ones with no fingers) and said that as Froggy was leaving the office soon he was taking on the responsibilirty of clearing his locker out of old landing cards, HO files, porn mags and superfluous condoms. Lafayette pointed out that any Fray Bentos meat pies should be straightaway returned to Hungerford otherwise Froggy would be summoned back to do the washing up, and Sandyballs said that any mysterious manuscripts entitled “memoirs” should be torn up and fed to the seagulls.

Froggy came back with the pints and said we really did have to ramble after these because we were meeting Bronco in the Laughing Fish for lunch and he'd be getting lonely. However after this one another pint ensued, the morning was turning out well, the sun was out, the seats had dried, the Harveys was good and a dispute arose as to whether Matt and Mike Clarke were one and the same person – like Superman. I mean you never saw them in the same place at the same time, did you? And Matt certainly had dubious ancestry coming from the Isle of Krypton which allegedly  turned you green if you got too close to it.

At last the Routemaster was worn down by NERDS' lethargy and persuaded to allow us to get the bus to Denton rather than ramble through the Newhaven wetlands. Time had since marched on and Malcolm might have bought the pub or at least another flashy 4x4 by the time we got there.

Since it was nearly lunch time and since this had been delayed so much by an inconsiderate Froggy, Sandyballs felt a compelling need to visit the chip shop on Seaford High street where he was a regular customer on rambling days. Then all the Old Git NERDS piled on to the bus leaving Young Git NERD to pay his own bus fare once again and we all rode off to Denton.

I suppose you could say that that day's ramble took place between the bus stop at Denton Corner and The Laughing Fish – all one half a mile of it. Anyway, rounding the corner in sight of the pub we saw Bronco sat outside drinking a coke or something innocuous. We dragged him inside and found that the Australians who had previously run the establishment were no longer there but there was rather a delicious barmaid called Krista who was at our service.

Krista herself might have been worth the journey (she was) but the rest of The Laughing Fish experience was pretty rubbish. The food was substandard and overpriced and the service took far too long. Poor Krista did her best but she seemed to have no help at all and was trying to deal with two groups of hungry people. So, saddened that yet another pub was failing in the NERDS' approved stakes we upped and headed for The Engineer. At least we knew this place would be clean, serve fantastic meals and have a politically correct landlord who would serve us excellent beer (well, at least we felt comfortablre there even if everything else was crap).

As usual the place was full of kids but Froggy managed to get Bob's ear and ascertain that his retirement party would still be on the following week. Mucho cheese and prawns were going to be produced beacause we know that Bob always does an excellent cheese board for occasions like this. I mean, Froggy only gets to retire once – what will he have to talk about after?

And so the latest “ramble” came to an end. We had drunk a lot of Harvey's and walked a bit ; seen a nice barmaid and a crap pub; got Bronco back in the NERDS and confirmed Froggy's party next week. Should all be fun – can't wait.

Lafayette.

April 2013 Joining Instructions

Fellow Nierdos,

This month's ramble will take place on Wednesday 10th April. The plan is that Harry (and Lord Charles)? take the 10:28 /10:38 train from Lewes / Newhaven Town and arrive at Seaford Station at 10:46, where they will be met by the Seaford Contingent. I have Googled all the Seaford pubs' opening times but most of them, including the White Lion seem unwilling to provide suitable libation before 11:30hrs., although the V Bar looks as if it is opened from 08:00hrs and the Old Boot could be opened from 10:00hrs? I'll do some further research before the ramble.

Weather permitting - snort - hilarious! We shall be walking to the Flying Fish, one way or another, and hopefully meeting up with Malcolm for lunch @ 13:00hrs. Trainers should be ok as there shouldn't be any mud.  Apologies for the late joining instructions.

The 8 duty-left Frogster

March 2013 Ramble

NERDS' Ramble No. 280. 20^th March 2013.

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

Jack and Jill Ramble

The NERDS met en masse on the train. Matt reckoned it was a Catholic conclave come to undermine the present smooth running of The Organisation (NERDS) despite most of us protesting we weren't and had never been Catholics. ( Matt always loves a bit of drama and has recently got overheated by the election of a new pope – he really wishes he were a cardinal dressed in a frock and had had a hand in the latest grand conspiracy!). Anyway, Froggy brought us all down to earth with a graphic description of how he had been sweating in the shower (so that's what they call it now) over some “Z” list film star he'd seen on telly that morning.

Sandyballs met us at Lewes with that day's battle plan to hand; we were to go to Hassocks first and then try to get to the Windmills Jack and Jill up a hill (of course) where we were to have lunch.

S.B. was suffering from looking after- the grandchild-and catching-his lurgy-syndrome, while Lafayette had his usual cold, so both were looking forward to some alcohol to take their minds off their woes.

A change of train at Brighton and we were on our way. Froggy sat there and told us he was worried about what he would do after retirement. So were all of us. The idea of Froggy ringing us up in the middle of the night to suggest a supplementary ramble the next day, or “how about we all go down to the pub and listen to my new song and guitar playing,” did not somehow have the allure of some other aspects of NERDS' leisure. We should have to find him some sort of fascinating hobby like er...... cooking or photography or cabaret singing (in the next town) or taking a couple of years off to spend  some solitary him-time in a Scottish castle drafting his next book, whatever........

So we arrived at The Hassocks Hotel (pub) where the lady kindly let us in early since it was not yet opening time by a couple of minutes and where we had the first beer of the day. All clustered round the table as we were, matters of great import were discussed

BUT – new NERDS' rule; you had to have hold of the vase of primroses – the primrose vase talking stick - to have the right to bore the others with your opinions. Matt started off by claiming that the cords were due soon to close their membership list. Froggy nearly upset the primrose vase trying to grab it to say he had nothing against cords, golfers or other persecuted minorities. Matt again took possession of the flower vase and opined that perhaps Froggy should join Nobby's walking group after retirement – The Gay Gordons – but Froggy was not keen (having snaffled back the talking primrose stick vase), and said he would prefer to supplement his pension by singing songs and accompanying himself on his guitar in pubs.

· Opinion was divided about the wisdom of this and it was decided (another new rule) to have a secondary smaller 'interrupter vase' containing fewer flowers and less water so that side comments could be made. This worked quite well for a while until everybody got so drunk they forgot who was supposed to have the 'talking primrose stick thingy' next, Froggy and Matt were lobbing vases at each other and Sandyballs dragged us all outside to walk our opinions off.

The route to Jack  and Jill took us along a very boggy path involving mucho mud. Most NERDS took this in their stride being real hard types, however one of us was under-dressed as usual (just like Paco in the rain before he bought himself a hoody), but yes, you've guessed it, it was Paco once again who had disdained any form of rambling boot, and instead had donned his ballet shoes not thinking he might have to circumnavigate nasty, shitty puddles. So the NERDS waited until he was in up to his armpits and then generously deigned to pull him out before he drowned. Phew, a narrow squeak!

All along a path next to the main railway line we went, straight, straight, straight. Finally we came out by a railway tunnel and zipped into the Jack and Jill pub which was the pre-amble to climbing up to the windmills (ha, ha!). Grouped around a table again, Sandyballs took hold of the flower vase and told us he hadn't done anything about the teeshirts for the Spanish trip. When we had recovered from the startling effect of this non-piece of news Matt suggested we should have “I love the cords” printed on the front of; said garments. Not much chance of that, we thought and turned our attention to what to have for lunch.

Lunch was generally poor, overpriced and disappointing. All except Lafayette felt they had been swindled. Laf’ said his sausages and red cabbage had been excellent, but Sandyballs pointed out that Laf’ would eat anything and anyway had money to burn. The meal was however somewhat enlightened by the ghost of Troy gliding past to the bog, although we all wondered whether ghosts really need to piss in the afterlife. Paco took the talking vase and told us of how he was occasionally overcome by the red mist (Paco??) and we all waited with bated breath to see whether Matt would complain about the dessert (he didn't).

Anyway leaving this NERDS non-approved pub we ventured into the outside world whereupon Sandyballs wanted to take us on a route to visit the two windmills. Good idea, we thought , let's do some real rambling, but when we got round the corner and saw the huge soggy, boggy path leading up the hill we decided (out of consideration for poor Paco, of course) to put off this climbing feat until the weather got better, in the summer, perhaps, or next year, or some time....

On the way back the going was less muddy although tricky. Most of us kept to the path but Froggy decided to take a 'shortcut' through a field where it seemed a little easier on the boots. Sadly the field turned out to be deceptive and further on became a quagmire. Froggy's Gucci loafers took a real hammering while Paco glided over the slightly damp path with little trouble. Just goes to show that a ballet pump on the path is worth a boot in the miry field (or something like that).

Finally we arrived back at The Hassocks Hotel where we tramped all over their nice carpet and lounged around on their comfy sofas clutching pints of Harveys and vases of flowers. It had been a good ramble despite the cold, the mud and the expensive substandard food ,but at least we had climbed up to.....Oh, no, we hadn't actually managed to do that, had we. Never mind next month is Froggy's retirement ramble bash. Expect dancing girls, confetti, loud music and probably the hand of God on His Chosen One too. Can't wait!

Lafayette.

March 2013 Joining Instructions

Dear Fellow Nerds,

This month we tiptoe through the daffodils ( and the snow drifts?) on Wednesday 20th. We are going to the Hassocks/ Clayton area and will be lunching at the up-market Jack and Jill Inn. A ramble we have done before although I myself missed the last one. You may remember there is the odd incline to be negotiated......

So, the usual 09.58/ 10.05 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town. I will join you at Lewes - middle carriage. At Brighton we change to the Hassocks service.

See some of you there on the day

SB

February Ramble 2013

NERDS' Ramble No 279 - 6th Feb 2013

Those Present – Lafayette, Froggy, Matt, Paco.

Posh House ramble 2013

Unfortunately our esteemed leader was not to be with us today – taking Mrs Sandyballs to hospital for health reasons – so he had carefully briefed Lafayette on the long and complicated route and on his responsibilities as that day's routemaster. Lafayette was rather excited, after all we were going to the place where he had been knighted in the hall by King Matt on a previous occasion.

Luckily we were quorate that day so all travelled up to Falmer and set off on a bit of tarmac trying to avoid the kamikaze students who were trying to mow us down on their bikes. The weather had been crap for days and we were heading into a nasty north wind which tested the efficacy of Paco's hoodie to the limit.

Froggy took a few photos after a bit of prompting – just to show what a shitty wintry day it was. Soon, however we had arrived at the warm welcoming Stanmer House where we were to take lunch.

Lafayette led everyone and their pints to a comfy sofa infront of the fire whereupon Matt promptly went and sat on another sofa and accused Laf. of being snobby and not joining him and Froggy.

 Laf said he had no intention of sitting on Matt's lap since his sofa was so small and he preferred to sit with Paco anyway – so quarrel no.1 of the morning. How many more could we kick off? Luckily the London Pride beer was excellent and the more we drank together with the warmth of the fire made us less inclined to fall out.

Grave Matters of State were discussed like the dates of the next two rambles, and Lafayette handed out some catalonian NERDS badges thoughtfully sent over from France by B.T. who seemed to have taken up donkey breeding according to the badges. Froggy suggested we have a pre-Spain meeting so that other important issues could be raised and discussed – such as which particular bit of the garden he would be marginalised to sleep in, and who would be allowed to use the lavatory first in the morning.....

Lunch at Stanmer House is always good – if somewhat expensive, especially if you have three courses and coffee and brandy after.

The service was a bit slow but we realised there were tons of other people lounging around scoffing sandwiches they had presumably ordered before us. Paco told us a story of how his first wife had been attracted to him because she thought he bore a strong resemblance to Mick Jagger ( never considered him in that way somehow and he sings like a drain).

 Matt reckoned that the C***s were going from strength to strength and were pulling in the most charismatic members of the Newhaven retirees....er, yes. Lafayette was still not persuaded to take part; after all, he was both a knight and a Lord so why should he put up with the whinges of peasants about pensions and holidays?

So, after the magnificent meal we all lounged around on the comfy sofas again and Lafayette telephoned Sandyballs to see what he was doing.

 He was missing us dreadfully; a great shedding of tears came through the phone conversation; we promised we'd have a drink in his memory now he'd given up his position of Routemaster. (See how subtlely Lafafayette mounts his coup).

Anyway, having dispensed with Sandyballs the rest of the NERDS were led blinking into the outside world and back through the Stanmer estate to Falmer. We were all so full by this time that nobody even thought of stopping off at say, Chez Bob for a drink so we all cleared off back home.

Thanks go to B.T. For the marvellous donkey badges and we hope that Sandyballs gets over being downgraded in the NERDS hierarchy in due course.

Spain is getting ever nearer!

Lafayette.

Supplementary joining instructions

Froggy says I forgot to state the railway destination for tomorrow's ramble. This is of course Falmer.

The other thing is I cannot make the ramble myself. I will be accompanying Barbara up to a London hospital for a medical procedure. She managed to get a cancellation appointment at Kings College and hopefully this will lead to a successful diagnosis.

Lafayette will be your guest routemaster - not that you really need one! In my absence can you try and sort out dates for the March and April rambles? I also intended to talk about the wording on the  25th Anniversary T-shirts, so can you give this some thought?

Have a good day and I will see you soon.

February joining instructions

Greetings all,

In Feb we are rambling (if that is not something of an exaggeration) on Wednesday 6th. By popular request we are reprising the 'walk' to Stanmer House. Really no more than a stroll in the park. The food, the location and the ambiance are always top notch - which tends to attract what I can only call some of our more 'occasional' members. No mud should be involved so you can leave your big boots/ wellies/ waders at home. Froggy, you should be OK with the Gucci loafers!

So, if you take the 10.25/ 10.32 from Seaford/ Newhaven Town - I will join the train at Lewes. Middle compartment?

By the way, I don't know how many of you knew Hugh Barr-Hamilton but his funeral is the day before the ramble. The funeral is in Hove. Lafayette and I will be attending.

I have no notes of any ramble dates for March and April. Does anyone have any preferences?

Sandyballs

January "ramble" 2013

NERDS’ Ramble No. 278 - 4th Jan. 2013.

Those Present - Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, Paco.

Lafayette’s Birthday Bash 2013.

Today was Lafayette’s birthday. He had already received a nice card from B.T. reminding him that he ought to be outside shooting wild boar instead of slumping in front of the telly watching yet another darts tournament. The NERDS were coming round to drag him out for a bit of fresh air so Lafayette got together all his bottle ends of booze and Dundee cake for the swarm of locusts about to descend.

Well, two of them turned up at the start. Froggy came bearing Calvados - always a welcome sight, ie. the Calvados; then Sandyballs with sweet wine and chocolate - how well he knew Lafayette’s sophisticated tastes! But where was El Paco?  Lafayette had rung him up a few days before and got a firm promise of attendance but so far he was a no show.

However half an hour into the ensuing festivities even Paco turned up clutching yet another bottle of Calva for the lucky Laf.

Sandyballs reported that his new grandson was as yet still unnamed; Lafayette suggested they call it Mary - just to be different, but SB didn’t think that would go down too well with his daughter so the idea was shelved.
Plans were refined for inflicting the NERDS on Paco’s sister’s Summer Palace this May and a trip to Dieppe in the Autumn was mooted. Sounds a good idea; we need to keep the old ferry in business. (Lafayette reported from his Coastwatch perch that radio messages between The Cote d’Albatre and the port authorities indicated passenger numbers were low). The NERDS were getting such travellers that a Saga cruise with Muscles Matt and his Black and White Cat, should not be entirely ruled out.

And so the “ramble” started. You may remember that last month there was not a lot of walking done because of the bad weather, well this month there seemed to be another conspiracy aimed at the NERDS - called the lure of pubs with open doors. You see, the ramble was going well; we had the purest intentions of walking in the general direction of the port and along the banks of the Mighty Ouse. However, just as we got level with The Engineer Froggy noticed a light shining from within, and decided that now would be a good time to make arrangements for his retirement do.

So we all piled into The Engineer. Bob was standing there in his dressing gown, yawning. He’d obviously been up for hours. The arrangements were made; seemed rude not to have a drink, just a quick one then we’ll be on our way ( How many times have you heard these famous last words).

One drink of course led to another and just then Bob’s extended family came in distract us further. There were Natalie and Kerry (daughters) and Lily-May, Connor,(son), and Zak. Lafayette was a bit puzzled by Zak since he was obviously of Caucasian race yet Laf  had had an interpreter of the same name working for him in Pakistan and he certainly wasn’t a white bloke. Then we were joined by daughter number three, Nicky, with kids Olivia and Paige. The NERDS were gob smacked by so many Yummy Mummies and kids running around. Sandyballs remarked that The Engineer wasn’t a pub any more, but these days seemed to be just a creche which happened to sell Harvey’s.

A look at the time. Oh dear, it’s nearly lunch time and we were due at the Flying Fish. I know, let’s cut the ramble (boring weather, anyway) and go straight there.
NERDS’ flexibility once again. So we “rambled” through Newhaven to Denton and thence to The Flying Fish.

The shame about this pub is that it sells crap beer. No Harvey’s here, instead Shepherd Neame which is poor by comparison. So why do we come here especially since the place is run by an Australian? (no taste in beer, these Aussies). Well, the food is really good.

 Last year L Lafayette took both the NERDS and the Darksiders here and they all liked the food. Since it was his birthday Lafayette was allowed to have the last hotpot - better than those from Lancashire (allegedly).

Suddenly the door was flung open and there appeared the mighty figure of Dumpling Dwyer who had been unable to join us at the start for business reasons. Apparently some guy from the Midlands had made him an offer he couldn’t refuse on his posh Land Rover Evoque, and had come haring down from Dudley to seal the deal. Never let business get in the way of entertainment says Dumpling, not that money had anything to do with it!

It was time to return to The Engineer to see our unreconstructed racist of a landlord  who hopefully had changed out of his dressing gown by now. So back to the creche we went and, surprise, surprise, the place was still full of kids.

 By now the drink was kicking in leading Lafayette to suggest the nameless grandson to be either called Zak (very trendy) or Buffalo-cum Griffin-Ryan
( a bit extreme). In the event, later news revealed he would be Dominic, a brother for Flintoff. (sounds like a bloody monk)

So in due course the NERDS escaped from the wonderful world of children at the Harvey’s creche and went home. Lafayette had had a good birthday with lots of cards and presents and things, so thanks to all those who participated and contributed. Looks like another calvados party when B.T. comes over next time.

Muchas gracias, Los Nierdos.

Lafayette.

January 2013 Joining Instructions

Dear All,

Just a reminder that we next ramble on Friday 4th January. This is coincidentally Lafayette's birthday, when he reaches the advanced age of 66. Should be an occasion for celebrations,hopefully. We are doing a sort of circular walk around Newhaven and lunching at the Flying Fish. First we meet at Lavender Lodge at 10-ish where we are promised libations and snacks.

Hope as many of you as possible can make it.

SB

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.