NERDS' Ramble No. 296 - 24^th July 2014.

Those Present – NERDS: Froggy, Paco, Lafayette, Matt,

The Bish, Curly Clarke.

Darksiders – Sheila, Marion, Jane, Ed, Dave, Debbie.

Today was another joint bash between NERDS and Darksiders by popular request so that the NERDS could meet other people and hone their social skills by communicating with girlies. ( a long forgotten art).

Well, what a glorious day! It was sunny, it was hot, The NERDS turned up at Newhaven wearing a variety of exotic hats to wow the opposite sex, and clustered together under a tree near the port to protect their headgear.

The Darksiders turned up, were suitably impressed, and the game was afoot. (Or rather the ramble began).

Lafayette was in charge since his ally, Sandyballs, was off er..... doing something else (like being a mercenary at Gatwick or spending his blood money on foreign holidays again). So it was to be a seaside walk over the cliffs towards Peacehaven. Darksiders don't get to see the sea much since they're usually engaged in good works at airports or lying around reading the newspaper and thinking about the good old days etc. so it would be something of a treat for them.

Lafayette took everybody for a stroll through the Newhaven streets (that is, the safe ones where you wouldn't get robbed, importuned or sold out of date British Visitors passports by dodgy Nigerians). Then it was up the hill to the Coastwatch Lookout where Lafayette did most of his charity work (lounging around, drinking tea, talking to girlies and looking out for Somali pirates -

in fact more or less what he did at work, but now for free!)

The sun shone down, the seagulls cawed and it was a good job there was a sea breeze to mitigate the heat. Still, it was a good view over the Channel where the odd fishing boat was making a living bringing in cod for the cognoscenti and cannabis for the masses.

The NERDS and Darksiders plodded on fraternising and sororising too.

Everybody reached the Meridian monument where East meets West ( but only in the UK shall the twain meet).

Here poor Sheila met a pampered Indian girl who demanded she take a photo of her in front of the monument. Sheila agreed (she's nice like that, is Sheila) but the girl took so long arranging her hair, adjusting her knicks and re-applying her eye liner that, after taking the photo Sheila nearly lost sight of the main bunch and had to hurry to catch up. Good job Ed was keeping an eye out for stragglers.

Lunch was at The Smugglers Rest at Peacehaven which is a big pub and suitable for marauding bands of ramblers. We had all been here before so knew what to expect. After an initial dance around to get twelve people seated within conversation distance of each other, the Irish waitress (sic) got us settled and the aperitifs began. Fortunately the NERDS and the Darkside share a common attitude  to drink (get as much down you as you can ) so things started off OK. The NERDS were treated to having their horoscopes read out in public (A bit embarrassing for Lafayette who was told he would fall in love with the Bish (!) but it all worked out in the end).

At table No 2 Matt was heard teaching the Darksiders how to complain about everything and get free puddings; Froggy was heard dining out on his adventures up at Hadrian's Wall and Marion was trying to inject a little culture into the proceedings by explaining the plot of Mozart's Cosi fan Tutte to those who'd heard of Glyndebourne. (Casting pearls before NERDS springs to mind here.) On table No1 the Bish had been served with a substandard beef burger, so moaned to the waitress. However before she could attend to his complaint Lafayette snatched it up, doused it in sauce and swallowed it (Well, he was hungry). The waitress, despite what looked like a conspiracy to get extra food, did believe him and got him a free pint. Lafayette admitted the burger had been a bit dry – but so what?

After lunch it was back over the hot, arid cliffs to Newhaven. One or two of the NERDS bailed out at various points and got the bus back (Notably the Bish and Paco) Lafayette and Sheila were both disgusted. They would never do such a cowardly thing however incapable they might have felt after one or two drinks. But it was a pleasant walk back amongst all the flowers and butterflies on the winding paths.

Back at Newhaven more drink was demanded so Lafayette led everyone to the Ark, and we settled in the back garden in the sun and Dave gave us a lecture on the absolute brilliance of old railway timetables as opposed to the inaccuracy of the modern Google system (Yeah, yeah, yeah).........then someone requested fish and chips. So once again Lafayette got them up and marched them to his favourite fish and chippery round the corner where he did a deal for cash with his namesake there ( a female also called Lafayette). And so everyone sat scoffing fishy stuff infront of the sea looking at the boats and things.

It seemed to have all gone off OK; the weather had been great, Curly Clarke had re-met a lot of people he once knew at Gatwick; nobody had fallen out ( Laf. and the Bish had actually got even closer over that beef burger) and the Darksiders had seen the sea again. It had been nice to get everyone together so maybe we'll do it again sometime.

Nierdos Para Siempre und Darksiders Uber Alles!

Love to all.

Lafayette.

P.S. This is not a work of art; just an account of what probably happened. Lafayette has asserted his right under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the sole author of this work. So there.

June Ramble 2014

NERDS' Ramble No 295 - 11^th June 2014.

Those Present – Froggy, Sandyballs, Matt, Lafayette, (The Captain).

The “Never Done it This Way Round” Ramble.

It was a dark and stormy night. No, actually, it was a bright and sunny day and the NERDS had been summoned to Das Boot (pub in Seaford)

 to have a cup of tea (or whatever) before embarking on a Froggy – organised expedition over the hills and far away to take in Beachy Head and other places.

Spain and its excesses were just a distant memory by now. BT had returned to France pursued by the brujas espagnoles from a hill town; some of us had returned to “the desk” at Gatwick, and some were pursuing their languid playboy style existence which categorised not actually having to go to work. Froggy, however had got twitchy. He wanted, nay needed, to set a ramble which would shake everyone out of their mundane, everyday existence; which would set the world alight and make us all think what are we doing here? what actually is the point of our existence?

And so it was to be a ramble nobody had ever done before, ie – backwards. Let me explain: We had gone to Beachy Head before, one or two times before, in fact, but always from Birling Gap and, like, upwards. This time we were going to pretend we were going to Eastbourne then suddenly switch routes, as if on a whim, and creep up to Beachy Head from the sneaky north direction. Got it? How exciting, How interesting, -  as Matt might say. 

Anyway, at Das Boot we all congratulated Froggy on his recent conquering of Hadrian's Wall, admired his badge, and suppressed the ignoble thought that he had paid a surrogate to perform the task while he lounged at home watching the telly. Naah, Froggy wouldn't do that, especially after the massive build-up akin to that of the Football World Cup which we had been treated to in the weeks previously. No, he had done it all by himself and had got back alive but knackered, so he was a real man now who could organise things and prepare weirdo rambles.

We got the bus towards Eastbourne, sat at the back upstairs and discussed neo Romantic French poetry and the iniquities inherent in the present Cambodian judicial system. In the consequent discussion about people who had made a profound impression on mankind over the last hundred years or so, Sandyballs seemed to slightly confuse the relative contributions made by Errol Flynn and Daryl Flynn. That is until Lafayette saw the light and pronounced that Errol was a famous swordsman and Daryl was a misguided idealist who wished to right all wrongs through the barrel of a gun. (Actually we just slagged each other off something rotten and were especially cruel on those who were dead.)

We alighted from the bus and climbed the secret and unexpected way upwards over the main road, and over the glorious soaring Downs towards our goal.

The sun was out, it was nice and warm and we were all excited at this new and previously secret route.

We got to The Vintage Inn where lunch was to be took, and lo, quelle surprise, we ran into The Captain who had been lurking there waiting for someone to buy him a drink.

Captain hadn't been to Spain so was unaware of all the kerfuffle about Hadrian's Wall, so we filled him in and he congratulated Froggy and admired his new way of organising rambles.

The food, on paper looked good; it was all pies and chicken and steak and stuff, but expectations turned sour. Laf and Sandyballs gobbled their pies up real quick since they were hungry and wanted to get to their( and each other's) chips. Matt who had actually been chewing his food realised his pie not only contained tough meat but was pretty tasteless, and complained. The young concerned virgin who appeared at his imperious summons was most put out that their horrible food was “spoiling his day” so said  she would take off all her clothes, do a little dance and bring him a new pie to compensate him for his distress. Matt was not too impressed with the offer; he had been angling for a free dessert not another crap pie, but the NERDS enjoyed the dance nevertheless.

The Captain made one or two remarks in a derogatory way about poor Matt's attire. Apparently pedal pushers were not the latest “in” sort of trousers to be seen in when acting as a grumpy old git who needs all his food cut up beacause it's too tough. Matt told The Captain that his solicitor was currently looking for work so the former decided to clear off quick and not join us for the rest of the walk.

We sat outside in the sun and drank gin and tonics, and Matt redeemed himself by telling some young chap that he had had a body like his long before he became a moany old git.

The chap was delighted he had an admirer but didn't offer to take his clothes off and dance for us. (unlikely for NERDS to strike lucky twice in one day). So after  tanning ourselves a little more Froggy rousted us out and we proceeded into the offshore breeze, over the rolling hills towards Belle-Toute Lighthouse.

While the NERDS sat here and had an icecream Matt told us about his new cleaner Svetlana, who came in every day, took all her clothes off, danced around and did the cleaning too. He only had to pay her £500  for each cleaning session so considered it a bargain. “ Does she cut up all your bloody food for you too?” asked a peevish Lafayette pissed off that his cleaner just came and drank tea. “ No, but she's got language allowances in Polish, Latvian and Slovenian.” replied Matt, “That's why she's so expensive.” Lafayette started thinking the unthinkable and began to wonder if he could go back to work at Gatwick for a bit so that he could afford a high class, overqualified cleaner like this, but decided it would be cheaper to just pay for the tea bags and keep his own on the minimum wage.

The incredibly clever, backwards ramble continued. The NERDS headed to Birling Gap.

It was still sunny, grassy and breezy, and we were all enjoying the craic. Birling Gap hadn't quite fallen into the sea so we went and disported ourselves on the tourist platform and had our picture taken by American tourists. Then we went inside and were served coffee by a big girl called er... Svetlana who said she spoke a lot of different languages, was trying to get out of the rut of just serving coffee and fancied becoming a high class h..... whoops, cleaner. We noticed Matt was outside sunning himself dicreetly as she told us her story.

On on, after this from Crow Link and up, up the hill till eventually we descended to East Dean and sought refuge in the Tiger Inn. East Dean, as always, is a pretty little village with a pleasant sunny village green (when it's sunny, like today). We drank Legless Rambler (beer) and fantasised about how Sussex seemed to attract quite a lot of foreign girls into its service industry.

Sandyballs asked whether Errol Flynn had a younger sister called Rachel Flynn who read the weather on BBC, but nobody was sure so hoped she wasn't related to Hungerford instead.

So back to the road and on a bus (free, no comment elsewhere) back to Seaford and all points West. The weather had been very kind and Froggy is to be thanked for the innovative angle at which he thought up and executed this ramble. Hadrian's Wall

 must have brought out his latent organisational skills and fired his artistic imagination. It was certainly worth a Three not Fitted, bordering on a Two.

Lafayette. 

Froggy's Joining Instructions

Fellow Nierdos!

This month, I have been honoured with the route-mastering. Now this could be something to do with my wonderful feats of resolve up north somewhere, or it could be that our resident and stalwart Route-Master has had to give in to my constant pawing at him to Do Another Walk!

The theme of this month's ramble is "Birling Gap, one last time before it sinks into oblivion". Now I have done some research and, sad to say, there are no more foaming pints at said place, just the odd twee bottle of wine and small can of IPA. So, with this horror in mind, the walk will only pass Birling Gap as a curiosity and not as an essentiality.

OK so we meet at Seaford in the Old Boot Inn @ 10:30 hrs. (Harry, best trains for you - 09:58 arriving at 10:14, with time to fiddle or 10:28 arriving at 10:46 with a fast walk to the Boot)? Please do not forget your bus passes as the walk involves the no 12 bus both ways.

If the weather is kind, the walk will be a pleasure! And, this being June, and a prominent summer month, one cannot  rule out the possibility of OAP fish suppers at Osborne's!

Froggy x

Spain in May 2014

NERDS' Ramble No. 294. 6^th - 9^th May 2014.

Those Present – Lafayette, Froggy, Sandyballs, Paco and BT.

The Second NERDS' Spanish Expedition.

Paco's lovely sister, Wendy, had given the NERDS the freedom of her house at Villa Rosa once again (Hooray for Aunty Wendy!) so that they could spend a few days sharpening up their Spanish and honing their cooking skills and generally relaxing after all the hardships of being forced into retirement. You see, being away from work was beginning to get boring for the NERDS.

Lafayette had shot nearly all the wild boar in Sussex and had had to turn to “Old Man” bowls simply to get out of the house. Froggy had already penned two rock operas which had been produced to great acclamation on the London stage and made him very famous. Paco had actually managed to get out of bed on perhaps three occasions but was getting bored with the self discipline this demanded; and Sandyballs was fed up with running round after grandchildren and was considering returning to Terminal 3 to pursue a career sweeping out the bogs.

Anyway Lafayette turned up at Gatwick with something he was very proud of. He had just bought a new turquoise blue case to put all his thingummyjigs in but sadly got a frosty reception from the others. “I'm going nowhere near you with that horrible gay case.” spat Sandy balls who was lugging a butch “Bear Grylls” type piece of equipment. “Well, too bad,” lisped Lafayette. “It's my gay case and I shall probably even take it through Brighton next year on the Gay Suitcase March. “ So If you don't like it I'll shove it up your arse and you can come too.”

Things settled down however after everyone had had a couple of drinks at the South Terminal, got lost wandering round looking for each other and taken on board either a slap up english breakfast ( S.B. And Paco) or a couple of manky sanwiches (Laf and Froggo.) Pity that the self-satisfied couple with the nice breakfast had to bolt theirs down because the flight was being called – my, how the other two larffed, Ho, ho, ho.

So, in the plane, in the air, down on the ground, arrive in Valencia.

Now to the lady at car hire. Last year we got a mammoth people carrying station wagon, bus type thingy, but Paco had asked for a smaller vehicle and Lafayette was worried that whatever we got wouldn't be big enough to accommodate four fat bums and one gay case. Not to worry; the lady was really nice (in spanish), charged us the earth and gave us a smart red Picasso (just like the ones they ride round the bullrings to aggravate the bulls).

 Since it was actually Ferrari red (this year's new colour) Paco drove it at an average speed of 150 kph to give the lie to the rumour that he was really only a lazy git who couldn't get out of bed.

Arrival chez Wendy. Better be circumspect. Wendy herself was arriving the following week so no sense in having too many parties and tearing the place apart. Now we went through the usual fascinating procedure of finding the right keys and unlocking every thing in the correct order so that the Albanian bandits who were hiding around every corner would get bored and go and ransack someone else's house. Leave them an inch, see, and they're zipping indoors through your legs and emptying the place before you've even had a chance to get the key out of the lock!

Everybody now in; a quick look round – no musical instruments around – Good! Now Froggy won't be tempted to er.... be creative.

Quick, isolate the snorers and put Laf and S.B. in the same room so that they can be homo erotic like recently in the New Forest. Now down to El Garrofer to see what this year's bunch of East European girlies look like.

El Garrofer hadn't changed much; basic, scuzzy, chip smells, mangy feral cats round your feet etc, but a pleasant canopy of chestnut tree leaves over our heads when we sat down at our table and, of course, the very real pleasure of our first omelette and chips served by the enchanting Alina from somewhere a bit further East of here.

Wonder where B.T. is? He wasn't there when we arrived at the house but I expect he knows where he'll find us.

Sure enough, we were half way through our second drink when BT screeched to a halt brandishing a large bottle of gin and a large bottle of calvados since he'd been through Andorra on his way here and thought his companions might be a bit thirsty. Hooray! So we all had another drink and BT and SB had a little rant together about lost inheritances and how old folk were mean and smelt of wee.

The afternoon was going well; we hadn't even touched BT's bottles yet, the Garrofer wine was flowing and it was then that SB and Paco decided to get jobs manning Hadrian's Wall ( a current favourite topic of conversation for Froggy ) when devolution took place ( fat chance); and BT came up with the idea of a joint NERDS credit card ( but taken care of by him) to avoid the annoying necessity of calling for a new wip every five minutes. (It was to be entitled Los NIERDOS Abuja). Luckily we were all just still sober enough to reject this idea on the grounds that somebody might possibly lose it if they were sitting around having a crap somewhere – especially if they kept it with their mobile phone. Can't remember what happened after that; expect we all went back chez Wendy, stopped drinking, cleaned our teeth, said our prayers and went to bed.

Day 2 – A musical interlude and other adventures.

Next morning Lafayette descended, and breathing in the atmosphere and seeing the recumbent form of Paco surrounded by a plethora of fag butts gave him a new name. Now known as El Fago, the Spanish one was obviously enjoying his holiday and destroying the precarious health of the others with his poisonous habit. Not to worry; worse things were to happen. Froggy got up still pissed and began to loudly sing every song he had ever heard – just to make sure everyone else was getting up and was appreciating his musical talent.

Now that we were all awake a plan was needed. First of all stuff a mattress down Froggy's throat then have breakfast. BT then became all artistic and started to dance around papping everyone with his camera. Why? We look the same as last year only slightly more debauched. But BT wanted to get some ammunition for embroidering the write-up so we all sat around pretending we were Kate Middleton and looked beautiful.

Finally some pushy person decided we needed to go for a walk (!!!) so we sloped off down the road towards the sea and started to pick our way along the shore.

It's a sod how the sand keeps getting into your sandals n'est-ce pas? Maybe that's why they're called sandals after all.

Froggy resumed his loud and tuneless repertoire of obscure pop songs; the Spanish all seemed to have magically disappeared in fright. The NERDS' patience broke; the holiday was becoming just a complete cacaphony of Froggy orientated self indulgence (and it was constantly very, very loud). Someone threatened to pitch Froggy over a cliff on to the nasty sharp rocks below; two others started fingering their Laguiole knives and measuring up the throat from which this fucking row was emanating. Froggy finally realised he was in imminent danger of being considered ever so slightly unpopular so said he would consider imposing a sponsored silence on himself for about ten minutes. Oh, we were so grateful. We licked his feet and hugged his knees in ecstasy and promised to cook his dinner for him that night. Froggy just looked scornful and went into a mong- mode sulk for a while.

Our travels had brought us back on to the main road where we suddenly espied a cafe where we could stop and get over the awful pain caused by not hearing Froggy sing. The cafe was called Rincon de Pedro and Pedro was indulging in the monthly treat of having his septic tank cleaned out. It was absolute heaven.... there was a huge yellow tanker parked opposite us making a stink like a Pakistani shithouse and a noise like about a thousand motorbikes all being revved at once. But.... we at least couldn't hear Froggy singing so we thought we'd stay here for a while despite the smell.

Lafayette was starting to have mental problems. It might have been being caused by the constant background noise from a variety of sources or else he was being haunted. Every so often he would count the NERDS, wherever they were, and feel that there was one too few. Where was the other one? Had he just gone off to get another round? No, we were still the same number (5) as when we had started off. Back in the Wendy House Lafayette would look around and feel that one of the NERDS was missing. Had he just gone into the kitchen or up to the bog? But no, everyone was there, it was a full count; yet even so Laf was sure someone was lurking at the fringe of wherever we were but couldn't quite make his presence known. I leave you, dear readers, to draw your own conclusions about this. Laf just had another drink and jammed his fingers even more tightly into his ears. Nevertheless the impression continued.......

That day we lunched at the Casa La Mera in town. There were no waitresses from Ukraine like in the restaurant last year – probably all gone back to fight the Russians – but the Spanish bloke gave good (waiter) service and we had an excellent paella while listening to the splash, splash, splash of the large fountain next to our table.

Froggy said he was dying of happiness at this lovely holiday, Paco tried to see how many fags he could get through and Lafayette kept twitching and looking over his shoulder.

After this long, long lunch which, due to form, cost slightly more than bugger all and produced some excellent spanish red wine, we somehow got five of us (who knows, it might have been six) into a saloon taxi and were transported back to El Garrofer.

There we fed the cats again and Sandyballs persisted in thinking the hole in the centre of the table was for bouncing glasses through straight on to the concrete floor. (Actually it was for putting the pole of a sunshade through but SB was not convinced and continued to practise his strange new hobby.) Froggy reckoned if you closed your eyes when he was singing you'd think it was Eric Clapton sitting (and singing) right next to you. We all wearily agreed that this was dead right. Thereafter, as before, the NERDS stopped drinking, went home, brushed their teeth and went quietly to bed. It had been a loud, strange, spooky sort of day.

Day 3 – Barbecue Day!

Put a number of men on a desert island like Bear Grylls has recently done for a television programme, and they will survive even though it takes them up to eight hours to light a fire. Put five (or six) NERDS in a Spanish villa and mention “barbecue” and they all start getting organised to go down to the supermarket. Bugger survival tactics; if there's a Lidl nearby we can do whatever it takes. Lafayette realised it needed coordination for this to succeed, namely everyone had to get up first. So he allotted tasks. BT would drive – since he had a car; Laf would make a list of stuff , like meat, more meat , a bit more meat oh and fire stuff like er.. fuel and perhaps matches; oh and buns to put the meat in. What else could you need? Perhaps a few cans of beer. No problem, sports. So off we went.

Lafayette was disturbed to note that BT had a hanging quazi bell in his car that jingled every time he went round a corner and so each time this happened he was sure he felt a cold hand placed on his shoulder.

 Probably just caused by nerves at BT's driving, nothing to worry about. In the supermarket Froggy was given the task of steering the trolley, Laf had the list and the others went forth and scrounged. Some funny things turned up, like Sandyballs wanted to buy all the expensive bike equipment, Paco wanted boxes of cigars and Froggy wanted rock music CDs. Laf. had to be very strict to keep everyone focused but eventually the job was done and we all repaired down the Garrofer again for an aperitif.

Anita was there; we noticed she was expecting so all looked guiltily at one another. She seemed to think it was maybe her husband's fault but whoever had had the pleasure had made her into the best pregnant Milf we had seen for ages. A clumsy one, though, since she insisted on chucking beer all over our table and then bending over it to clear up thus causing a few hearts to go flutter, not to mention...oh, never mind.

Back at the ranch it was very hot and sunny so we all picknicked on picknick stuff, drank ourselves stupid and had a little snooze. All too full for a barbecue now, let's try and get the telly working.

Bear Grylls would have been proud of us, it only took about four hours, so then we watched David Attenborough walking round somewhere foreign talking to monkeys after which we had another little snooze.

After snooze number 2 Sandyballs wanted to exercise his barbecue skills so we all decided we were a bit hungry after all and started the burning process.

This actually went quite well (especially after Paco had increased the amount of charcoal) although we seemed to be eating a lot of wild boar shit sausages (at least that's what they looked like) and incinerated crispy things which SB told us were chicken feet. This burst of action triggered something in SB's insides ( maybe it was a miracle, maybe his Catholic faith had returned) but despite not having defecated for about three days SB suddenly found he could deliver of himself. What news! Ring the bells! Show the white smoke! This was the high light of the afternoon so you can tell how mundane things had got by this stage.

Day 4 – A Little Trip to the Mountains.

Todays' idea was to go up to the mountains and use some petrol in the hire car. Because he was such a hero Froggy selflessly said he would stay behind and do all the housework and be loud and sing songs to annoy the neighbours (instead.) Such self sacrifice! It meant we could have a nice quiet trip with more leg room for those remaining, and be able to discuss matters of import such as the vexed question of Britain's possible exit from the European Union or the problems concerning the drains in Indonesia.

We headed towards Morella an hour's drive away.

Lafayette sat in the front to accompany Paco and make sure he stayed awake. This he accomplished by describing in loud detail every woman he had ever slept with and by howling boring pop songs in his ear. Paco was somewhat startled but at least he remained awake.

Morella was still in the same place ie. up a mountain and pretty cold.

One of the first visits was to walk past Prat's Bar (sic) where on a previous occasion BT had mistaken a pig sandwich for something edible and had started to sprout trotters and a curly tail.

Outside we crossed the road and entered a Bruja shop (witchcraft).

It was full of witches on broomsticks hanging from the ceiling, funny books containing incantations, strange scripts hanging off the wall, funny smells and a general atmosphere of enchantment.

We all went in except BT who suddenly found he was restrained by an invisible barrier. No matter how much he tried he was unable to enter the shop. Puzzled by this, a flash of memory took him back to the previous year when he had wantonly kicked aside some ugly old beggar woman outside Prat's bar who had importuned him for alms. “ Get out of my way, old woman.” quothed BT. “ Don't you recognise a Public School boy when you see one? We don't give anything to beggars, we send them back where they came from. Begone, foul hag.” The mendicant had recoiled, then had spoken to BT in a silky voice.” Why don't you go into that nice bar, my lovely boy, and have a bacon sandwich; it will undoubtedly do you good.” ( cackle, cackle.) The rest was history.

Sandyballs was feeling a bit sick (What is it about Morella?) so we stopped at a pavement cafe for a cup of coffee. Ah, this was better; proper coffee, no old hag beggars, and a view up and down the interesting high street. Just then a vision of loveliness appeared.

It was a chica floating down the street in Daz-white tight trousers,

white high heels and a figure of such voluptuous proportions that one or two of us spilled our coffee.

“ Don't look. Avert your eyes!” screamed Lafayette who had been to some strange places in his time. “ It's a witch; If you look at her you will undoubtedly turn to stone!” Paco became immediately worried and his hand crept towards his groin. “ I think I've started already.” he wailed.

Fortunately, however, the fausse chica passed on by and the atmosphere of heavy sensuality gradually dispersed.

What a narrow escape. Our thoughts then turned to Froggy languishing by himself in Villa Rosa with no-one to listen to him, and prey to being attacked by long range witches from Morella.

What if they got to him before our return? What if they turned him into a mong that was dumb but just bursting to express himself like on the beach a few days ago? Better get him some sort of charm that he could wear round his neck to ward off evil chicas/witches. Our quest led us to an anti-bruja shop run by a normal catalan woman. “Have you got anything to ward off evil influences, especially those caused by too much drinking and self-obsession?” asked Lafayette. “I've got just the thing.” said the anti-bruja pulling out a frog on a stick from her warm bosom.

“This will stop anyone from being the object of evil thoughts, evil influences and it's rumoured that it even cures snoring.” “We'll take it!” said Laf. and made sure she wrapped it up carefully to keep its magic powers fresh.

After a pleasant lunch at Vinatea restaurant

where we met Tania and her identical non-sister, we went to look over the countryside from the bella vista part of the town.

We were high up in the sun and watching the swifts chase each other around. This was the spot where we had seen the younger version of Philby the previous year – but he had not returned.

BT wanted to visit Morella Castle,

which involved a lot of climbing in the hot sun. However it was worth it as the views were magnificent and the interior of the monastery was vast, echoing, and pleasantly cool after the heat outside.

Paco was so impressed with all this pre- Franco history that he fell over his own feet and injured his hand. Lafayette put it down to the evil machinations of the local brujas, but Sandyballs reckoned Paco was just being a clumsy sod. (Probably a combination of the two). Lafayette drove back as Paco was now an official invalid and the NERDS ended up at the Garrofer for gin and tonics. Froggy was ecstatic to be given his frog anti- witch charm bracelet-thing-on-a-stick and said he had never once been car sick all the time we'd been away (in the car). Funny that.

Final Day – The NERDS split Up.

Last day today, Sandyballs and Paco flying home from Valencia; BT taking the other two chez lui for a week in France. Despite being an official invalid Paco struggled manfully to deal with the rancid bed linen and the rest of us tidied up so that his sister wouldn't think we had been complete hooligans. Froggy spent the morning playing with his new toy and whispering pop songs to it. Lafayette spent a lot of time twitching, turning round suddenly and looking in odd corners for the presence he still felt around somewhere. Should have got an anti-paranoia charm bracelet doodah from the nice wise woman in Morella. Sandyballs spent his final hours trying to beat his record of having only one dump in a week; but we never got told the result of this experiment.

And so we parted. As an example of male bonding it had gone OK. No-one had got killed and only minor injuries had been sustained. Nobody had lost their phone or anything more valuable

this time and the consensus was that we were all tired and wanted to go to bed and detox. Many thanks go to Wendy and Paco for their lending of the facilities and organisational skills respectively. The rest of the NERDS are to be praised for their individual life skills and other talents. (You all know which ones) so let's be glad we all survived again, and meet up once more in June. Lafayette is still wondering who the sixth NERD is/was. Maybe he is yet to be born - eee, spooky.

Lafayette.

April's Ramble 2014

NERDS' Ramble No. 293. 16^th April 2014.

Those Present – Lafayette, Froggy, Sandyballs, The Admiral,

Bronco.

Bronco's Back!

Rumour had it that Bronco had actually retired - ie. he had ceased attending the office at Newhaven where all the proper I.O.s who had done crossings had once worked. Sadly, those left were the dregs of the old Gatwick society who didn't speak French and were more interested in seizing fags rather than knocking off Algerians ( Oh, the nostalgia, oh, the good Old Days. Whatever is the world coming to? Rant, rant etc etc.) Anyway, I digress. Bronco had now left the hell-hole that is now Newhaven (Whoops, there I go again!) and was free to become a NERD once more, a member of a society whose standards had not dropped over the years (Shaddup, Lafayette for Chrissake!)

So, this ramble was in part to welcome Bronco back into the fold, but also since most of the NERDS had been unable to attend his retirement do at The Engineer because of other duties. Froggy and Matt had been away holidaying in exotic parts, Paco had been on Mars as usual, and Lafayette and Sandyballs had been indulging in two-in-a-bed sex romps in the New Forest.

We also had a guest appearance from The Admiral that day who had sailed back especially from the Windward Islands in his magnificent yacht just to see Bronco again. All the NERDS met up with Sandyballs at Lewes and then were transported to the Lewes Downs where the ramble would begin. Bronco, because he was a bit out of practice at walking and stuff, would meet us for lunch in The Green Man in Ringmer.

The day was bright and sunny with a bit of a breeze to stop you getting too hot. The NERDS struggled up the escarpment from Lewes gasping and wondering why everything was so steep. There were signs on the Downs that young people had already been there and made their mark. A tasteful heart pierced by an arrow and an Easter bunny had been laid out in stones on the side of the hill ( Auh, sweet!).

The Admiral, aware that Lafayette had a vast arsenal of weapons back at home, told him of the terrible seagull problem he had round his house. “ They're building nests, shitting everywhere, making a bloody squawking racket, I can't stand it any more, they'll be carrying off babies soon and eating them.” the Admiral was clearly distraught but Lafayette knew he could do nothing. Shooting seagulls was verboten; they were a protected species, protected by The Home Office no less. “Well can you come round and get rid of the wild boars that are digging up my lawn?” said the Admiral, obviously getting desperate. “ Sorry, no way,” replied Lafayette, “Home Office Regulations.” “Well, at least you can surely come round and cull the elephants that are all crapping behind the garden shed?” screamed the Admiral, clearly distraught and on the brink of a nervous breakdown “All this wild life is getting far too much.” “No.” said Lafayette firmly - “ Home Office. Besides everyone might think I was an irresponsible person if I came round your place blasting away at all and sundry.

Better get the rat catchers from Environmental Health around; at least they work for the Home Office and are in a better position to really cock up your problem.” The Admiral contined to gibber and sob quietly.

After a pleasant walk through Ringmer we headed towards The Green Man. Sure enough there was Bronco sat at the bar with a drink infront of him. He looked well and said he felt relieved to be free from the stresses and strains of H.M. Border Agency.

 ( Actually he said he'd quite enjoyed working there during his final days.) It must have been hell being with all those Customy types but they'd all clubbed together to give him a large mantelpiece clock knowing as they did his weakness for time pieces. And he'd also got a small tablet to faff about with and watch porn on. What more could a retiree want?

We sat in the sunny garden of The Green Man and watched mine host buzzing around like a mad wasp. Don't know what his name is but he certainly generates a lot of enthusiasm for his pub, and the Old Trip beer was excellent. Bronco told us how he'd been spending all his retirement money on dead expensive Rotary watches, and Lafayette was really jealous because he'd only got two old Omegas. We were impressed by the quality if the food but more by the charms of the nymphet waitress who looked about fourteen but obviously had enough grass on her wicket to come out to play. Never did get her name – shame.

The Admiral presented everybody with some antique Newhaven Port i/d passes he had unearthed from somewhere; but since they were all dated 2003 there wasn't a personal one for Lafayette (who had left in 1991) so he inherited (That Bastard) Knocker Nicolson's one. Lafayette was most grateful for this, he had always wanted a memento of (That Bastard) Nicolson and vowed he would stick a different set of pins into it every night.

Finally we bid farewell to The Green Man and clustered round the bus stop on the other side of the road to get the 143 back into Lewes. Bronco bid farewell to us near his house 'cos he can't drink much these days with his dodgy kidneys, nevertheless it was nice to see him again and we hope he will continue to lunch with us when he's not out on Crunchy being the Lone Ranger over the Downs. Most of us then dived into The Gardeners and drank, yes, er... a beer called Laughing Frog which was quite nice and whiled away the rest of the afternoon.

So a good ramble on a pleasant sunny day and with Bronco included it was even better. Soon we shall go to Spain if we can round up Paco to lead us there, so start saving up those euros now.

Hasta luego, los Nierdos.

Lafayette.

April's Joining Instructions

This month we climb as well as ramble on Wednesday 16th. The idea is to meet up with Malcolm in Ringmer. I have to yet put flesh on the bones of this plan as I am occupied with gatwick shifts, trips to the New Forest and various holidays! However, fear not the details will be resolved.

Anyway, if Seaford sorts can get the 09.25 to Lewes - 09.32 from Newhaven - I will meet you all at the station. Don't forget the famed NERDS flexibility!

Sandyballs

Saint Patrick's Day Ramble

NERDS' Ramble 292 Mon 17^th March 2014.

Those Present – Lafayette, Sandyballs, Froggy, El Paco, Matrix Man Dio, Curly Clarke.

St. Patrick's Day Ramble 2014.

Well, I won't go too much into who was Irish and who wasn't this day. Lafayette certainly wasn't; Froggy wasn't; Dio was more sort of red indian/ Italian; Sandy balls thought he was, but only by descent; so was Curly Clarke; Paco – weeell, not quite; so that left the two who were absent as the only proper Irish – BT because he was born in Dublin, and Matt who looked and acted Irish ( and was actually Irish.) But when did all these minor details get in the way of an excuse for a NERDS piss-up?

So, first of all the excitement of everybody attempting to get on the same bus near Lafayette's house from about three different starting points. Potential for cock-ups enormous but thanks to the technology of mobile phones we managed it and rode to Rodean to see the little girlies in their short......no, no, no, not that; to walk back along the cliff top path towards Rottingdean and bask in the nice sunny weather of that day.

Luck of the NERDS again. (Still, pity about the nymphets in their little short.......).

First stop was The Plough in Rottingdean which predictably was not yet open.

( It was 11 50hrs) so getting a promise from the barmaid in the garden that all our wants would be catered for in due course we cleared off over the road to The Black Horse which was so discreet that Lafayette almost walked past it.

However, alerted by the Irish flags slung round the door, Sandyballs led us into the front bar where we met Celeste. Now Celeste was certainly not Irish, but, shit, who cared with a figure and face like she had. She obviously came from some dusky part of he Commonwealth (like Brighton) and was extremely easy on the eye. We were beginning to be tempted by the lunch menu in this place and had actually called for the wine list when we were informed that it was Monday and the chef was off elsewhere - probably celebrating St Patrick's Day (Huh!). So we sat around and admired Curly Clarke's nice green Irish Jumper

and Paco had a little rant about the folly of Sandyball's youngest in turning down a well paid (very well paid) job in Brighton just for the privilege of having her father bring her tea and toast in bed every morning and then drive her to the station for some menial job in London. ( Bloody kids, eh.)

Back to The Plough then for lunch where Froggy told us of his penchant for watching The Musketeers on Sundays ie. How he like watching four pretty boys run around and get friendly with each other while wearing leather......er...yes. Dio liked the idea of the leather gear but he's a butch, matrix type who can see the irony of the inversion of Dumas' post revolutionary, neo buddy movie type literary aspect; not to mention Lafayette who's read all the Musketeer oeuvre (some in French ) and who knows the telly version is bollocks.

Whatever, Froggy once again failed to take a selfie (technical problems) so we got down to lunch, which was excellent, and discussed whether Paco should invest in some designer underwear to counteract his builder's bum. Lafayette had two lots of icecream (as usual) and the barmaid was called Liz – not bad, but not as exotic as Celeste, but she gave us all silly Irish hats which was nice of her, and which helped to protect us against the wind when we ventured outside again.

As we were going up the hill towards the Rottingdean windmill we came across a scarecrow standing captured in someone's garden.

Seems like a common theme in Sussex; remember the poor scarecrow tied to a tree in last month's ramble? And so up, up we continued, past the windmill and down by St Dunstan's, then under the main road to the concrete walkway next to the sea towards Brighton Marina. It was a long walk but breezy and sunny and we had our hats down over our ears to protect us.

Gosh, there's a Wetherspoons in the Marina, better try that, should be able to get some Irish rum and coke there. And so we did. Froggy went to the bog and came back after rather a long time and said he'd been receiving italian lessons therein (??). Probably just trying to read the grafitti written by students, but , hmm, you never know. Paco told us how during his misspent youth many years ago in London he had nearly bought a wolf skin coat. (Didn't know there were any wolves still roaming round London even that long ago ). Maybe he was trying even then to keep his builder's bum out of the cold.

After Wetherspoons we got on a number 7 bus and rode into Brighton to go to The Fiddlers Elbow. This was Sandyballs' Mecca on St Paddy's Day and never fails to disappoint. As usual the crowd had overflowed on to the pavement outside and were all drinking hard and having a good time. Lafayette nearly got RLE since the bouncer told him no stupid hats were allowed inside, but this turned out to be just a bit of Irish humour since virtually everyone in the pub was drinking Guinness and wearing a stupid hat. We hung around in here for a bit, bejeezus, it was crowded and our hands were freezing holding glasses of cold Guinness. Then we went outside and some bird called Ellie took our photo (Irish girls are always dead friendly) and then we went to the other Wetherspoons round the corner and got even more plastered on double Krakens and coke.

So that's it all really. We had done a bit of walking and been to a few pubs that were celebrating St Patrick's. We had seen a few pretty barmaids ( and some pretty ugly ones in The Fiddlers) and the weather had been pretty good. Shame you two proper

Irish NERDS couldn't be with us but I expect you were both having a good time somewhere in your own personal ways. Next month we're meeting up with Bronco-NERD because he's finally retiring and going to spend all his vast wealth on watches and retirement dos. So looking forward to that.

Bye bye for now.

Lafayette.

St Patrick's Day Ramble Joining Instructions

Dear Nerds,

To celebrate the Great Day we will walk on Monday 17th. Pity that the only true, 100% Irishman in tthe Nerds cannot be with us but he is in The Old Country on the day. Yes, I know that BT was born in Dublin - but that was an accident of birth , wasn't it?[NOT AT ALL].

Our ultimate destination is to have a couple of pints of Liffey water at The Fiddlers Elbow in Brighton.

 However our walk and the pub lunch will take place outside Brighton. A little complicated this, so pay attention! The walk ( which we have done before) starts on the Coast Road opposite Roedean School ( keep your lascivious thoughts to yourself). We then walk back along the Undercliff to Rottingdean and lunch at The Plough. Then inland a bit, along The Downs and back to our starting point. From there it is a bracing walk along the front into Brighton.

Now, it makes sense to do this by bus. ( Are there any NERDS sans 'Bus passes'?). My perusal of the bus timetable suggests that there is no.12 bus from Seaford Library at 10.24 arriving at Newhaven at about 10.35. I will take the train to Newhaven and go Lafayette's place and we will join the rest of you on the bus - hopefully. What can possibly go wrong?

I hope we have no 'soft weather' on the day. The luck of the Irish and the luck of The Nerds should see us through.

Lafayette - will you forward this to Dio?



SB

February 2014 Ramble

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February Ramble Joining Instructions

Hi Fellow - Nerds,

This month we ramble on Wednesday 26th.  In view of us having suffered the wettest winter since records began, I thought we would try to avoid the inevitable mud and keep our boots dry until next time. I am thinking mostly of Paco here! Consequently I thought we could revisit an old favourite and take a train to Berwick, walk along the cycle-track and lunch at The Cricketers. A tried and tested formula. There is also the chance to vistr Milf Central ( sans Milfs) on the return leg.

Therefore, Seaford/ Newhaven types take the 10.25/ 10.32 to Lewes. I will meet you at Vics (sans Vic) for a coffee and whatever and we take the 11.09 train to Berwick.

Simples?

SB