Day 1-May 25th
2007-Respect the mountain by Dave
The four travellers made a prompt departure on an overcast Friday morning at 10 am. Phil and Nigel were the respective drivers and made a stop at the garage on the A34 by the motorway as Phil wished to top up the oil in his car. Unfortunately although science has put submarines on the bottom of the sea, a man on the moon and even Phil on a woman, it seems that no-one has yet invented a smooth funnel through which to pour oil into a car engine and the telltale cursing and muttering from behind the bonnet gave the game away that, not for the first time, Phil had found his hands covered in something oily and sticky after toying with a warm throbbing object.
Happily no more mishaps occurred, traffic was quite clear, and the journey north to Keswick took only 3 and a half hours-this would have been quicker but for a refreshment stop at the services, where Louise regaled the chaps of her exploits of the previous evening, which included a visit to a lap dancing club, where one of the girls did a routine involving the performing of a handstand-this prompted potential complements about nice curtains and the like but also posed the question about where one should insert a tip in such instances.
Keswick was reached under sunny skies at 2 pm-Nigel and Lou checked in at the B & B titled Hazeldene (the eighties song by the singer of the same name “Searching…looking for love” would have seemed more apt for Philbert). Phil and Dave checked in at the Apple trees-to be greeted by the rather twitchy Geordie owner, who informed the travellers that there was a 12.00 curfew-whereupon the door would be bolted-when pressed for a reason for this he said “Well ah ‘ad some lasses doon from the North East, who pissed on wor doorstep at 3.30 in the mornin’-so ah had tee threw em oot like” He seemed a little bit too eager to divulge this information but the twitchy eye and the clenched hand when he said it should have been a giveaway for events that were to unfold later on. Phil mentioned to Dave that perhaps an ascent of Skiddaw (the fourth highest mountain in England) could be attempted followed by Scafell Pike (the highest) on Saturday-Dave agreed and asked Mr Twitchy how long this would take-he said 2 and a half hours (lying git) and the party of four set off.
After several wrong turns and Phil “Twat Nav” Atkins taking the group consistently in the wrong direction, Nigel finally worked out the map and a route was plotted.
A gentle hours start broke the group in with Nigel “Terry Nutkins” Walters taking interest in all the informative signboards at the side of the route, about such diverse things as oak leaves and sightings of red squirrels in the area-he then declared that he would stamp on the next grey squirrel he saw and started a lecture using words like “indigenous” “native” and “fauna”-the others merely nodded their heads and let him get on with it.
Eventually as the climb became more arduous the Walters cousins started to lag behind so Phil and Dave pressed on with only the sheep for company. After three hours the first of three summits (Little Man) was reached but then another one lay further on -this is when things started to get a bit weird. After wheezing their way to the second peak-a screaming violent wind seemed to appear from nowhere-so bad that Dave couldn’t even get his camera out for a piccie-and it was cold enough to give cold cramps in the arms. Nutkins was then spotted on the lower slopes so Phil waved for him not to bother going any further.
Phil and Dave then started the descent, which was interrupted twice by Dave rolling around the floor in agony as cramp hit his lower hamstrings in both legs. Phil and later Nutkins had the (unenviable) task of reviving his (stuck in the air) legs-whilst Crampers lay flat on his back in the gravel. Louise, by now coming into view from afar, must have wondered what was going on.
Terra firma was reached after nearly 5 hours on the peak and Saturday’s plan to attempt Scafell Pike was promptly scrapped and food sought.
The Keswick Lodge provided excellent fare as well as draught Lancaster Bomber for Nutkins and Atkins. However Phil decided to introduce his Michael Winner “do you know who I am” persona to proceedings-this involved sending his beer back due to a small head (no comments please) and also demanding that his sea food platter be heated to the exact optimum temperature-this was interspersed with comments to the (mercifully foreign and therefore slightly bemused) waitress “you’re a lovely little thing aren’t you? -Would you like to see my yacht? -Just don’t tell your mother” and so on and so on.
Next port of call was the Oddfellows Arms-this pub was packed with old people, apparently enjoying a Ken and Doris singing and comedy act “Cracklin’ Rosie” “Sweet Gypsy Rose”-you get the picture-GRUESOME !!!!
Final destination was the Royal Hotel-by this time Louise (complete with her patented “John Wayne-the Duke”-style hobble) had limped home but it seemed that Winners had finally clicked with a woman at the bar. Nutkins and Crampers discussed bets on whether he would be breaching his curfew-the odds shrank when the pint-sized lothario arrived at the table to pick up his beer, tongue hanging out like an excited puppy dog but alas for poor Winners it was an illusion .It transpired that she had a fiancé, asleep upstairs with the kids, it seemed that Winners just looked like the “sort of bloke I can really talk to”-direct quote-OUCH!!!! Never mind-night over.
Day 2- 26th May 2007-Stones, Groans and Chip shots by Phil
Woke to a hearty breakfast and aching limbs, talk of walks up Scafell Pike was quickly forgotten. Met up with the rest of the team, where plenty of jokes at Dave’s expense due to his cramps fiasco the day before. A trip round shops and a came of golf was the order of the morning, then rugby (England vs. South Africa) for lunch, a trip to see the stones (ancient old relics made of stone not the other ancient old relics made of cocaine and jack Daniels, allegedly) in the afternoon then probably a small sweet sherry or two.
Two rounds of golf were had, 1st singles, 2nd team event, Porkers/Winners, of course, won the singles with a fine display of chipping that left the others in such awe that they had given up by the 3rd tee. 2nd game bought together Crampers and Nutkins losing to Winners and The Duke, Crampers and Nutkins were rubbish that’s why they lost. The best bit was when Crampers got a touch of cramp in his hair and fell off a hill while taking a shot!
Shops were kack, except for a chocolate shop (of all places) selling the odd snifter, which Winners took advantage of, a clothes shop that gave us water, and an offy that sold a cracking variety of real ales and beer mats!
Lunchtime, food and drink and rugby, thank god for food and drink cos the rugby was crap, record defeat, say no more.
Nutkins’ stones beckoned so off we went, got half way and Crampers turned round and went back, he claimed to rest his leg, we think to crack one off, make your on minds up. A brisk uneventful walk got us to the stones, were plenty of ‘brown sugar’ and ‘ere, Mick’ impressions could be heard, that’s if you could here yourself over a 1960’s beatnik style character who sat reading poetry to his ‘yar yar’ pals. Erm…..
Headed back to The Keswick Lodge for a quick one, on the way back to get washed, in order to get back to the Keswick Lodge for dinner, ate some food or other and had a crawl round a couple of haunts, Thwaites Lancaster Bomber went down too well, The Duke had a gunfight at dawn or something and rode off into the sunset a bit too early, Crampers, Winners and |Nutkins ended up in a hotel bar that was open till 3am but had to leave early due to the wanker at the B&B bolting doors at midnight, extensive drinking opportunity wasted! Still, we left in mild spirits looking forward to breakfast the next day…
Day 3- 27th May 2007-Cumbrian Odyssey Act 1 part III by Nige
As the early morning sun
spread its warm fingers over the Cumbrian fells, light fell in through the
window of room 1 Hazeldene Guest House to awaken The Duke and Nutkins from their
slumber. After quick ablutions, the aching pair made their way gingerly to
breakfast, walking in such a way as to make the other guests think, " what
the hell have they been up to all night?”
"Two full English breakfasts please Innkeeper" was the cry "and a
pot of Earl Grey to be brought forthwith"
"Why certainly Master Nutkins" said the Hotelier and retired into the
kitchens to commence the slaughter.
A hearty breakfast ensued with The Duke boycotting the short piece of Cumberland
sausage on her plate because "It looks like a willy"
After a short discussion on what kind of men she'd known to warrant such a
comparison we drained our cups and adjourned to the bedchamber for a quick
change and to await the arrival of Crampers and Winners
for the days events.
A walk around Derwent water was decided as the weather could
have gone either way and after a quick wander around town we hit the trail only
to be stopped immediately by Miss Half Hill who on spying a lavatory
and being a girl decided to spend a few minutes powdering her nose. A very
pleasant walk was had skirting the shoreline to begin with and moving in and out
of densely wooded areas giving Winners some opportunities to get his binoculars
out for a spot of bird watching. It soon started to rain in short showers
and we had to leave the trail and join the lakeside road for a while as the
terrain became a little rougher. It was coming up to 11:30am when we
finally came to the welcome sight of the Ladore Falls Hotel nestled into a
cleft in the side of the hill.
The intrepid travellers wiped their feet and entered, heading straight for the bar
to sort out some refreshments with Winners and Nutkins deciding they'd remained
sober long enough that day and resorting to sampling some bottled cider
courtesy of Mr Bulmer.
It became apparent immediately on entering that we weren't
the only ones in the hotel that day and on spying lots of ladies in silk dresses
and strange hats coupled with grey suited men with flowers in their buttonholes
it was deduced that there was a wedding taking place. Looking slightly
dishevelled and completely out of place in our rain sodden gear we decided to
vacate the bar and found a lovely little seating area next to an open fire where
we warmed ourselves while perusing the days papers with Nutkins commenting on
the fine writing bureau that stood in the corner. A short while later a man
appeared from the wedding party and said
" The bar area is clear now, you might want to move from here as they'll be
a lot of people coming through in a minute" which was a polite way of
saying "Could you four ruffians f**k off please as we don't want your sort
in the background on the wedding photos"
We stayed their long enough to see the Bride, all dressed in white come through
and a fine looking wench..... Err lady she was to. We then retired back to the
bar, found a comfy seat and ordered a spot of lunch. The next couple of hours
were spent eating and drinking watching the rain, watching the walkers on
top of Catbells though Winners' bins and discussing such hot topics as
"was it going to piss down the rest of the day? " (Probably),
"were Winners and Nutkins going to drink for the rest of the
day?" (More than likely), "is Bulmers Cider better than Magners?"
(Definitely) and "was the Bride worth spit roasting?" (ABSOLUTELY!!!).
Winners also took time out from complaining about the standard of service in
modern day establishments to put on his theoretical paint stained jeans show the
theoretical crack of his theoretical arse and advise Louise on what to do about
knocking the back out of her fireplace at home (fnarr fnarr). A gap finally
appeared in the clouds and the rain ceased so we left the warm confines of the
bar and went for a walk through some woodland
whereupon we came to Ladore Falls,
which nestled in an idyllic spot behind the hotel. We took in the tranquillity
for a short while and then walked down to the lake where there was a jetty for
getting the ferry back to Keswick. On discovering it was another 30 minutes
until the next one, it was back to the hotel bar for another drinkie and then
down to the ferry again. The ferry was in as we approached in good time, but all
of a sudden Louise started galloping ahead like demented pixie shouting
"come on, come on ". To our dismay the ferry, after disgorging its
passengers onto the jetty then upped anchor and buggered off with still 100
yards still to cover by ourselves and a good 5 minutes left before the proper
departure time. We damned his hide to Hades and had words with the chap in the
ticket booth but to no avail, so we returned to the hotel apropos getting a taxi
back to Keswick.
Mr Winner on the other hand had other ideas and proceeded to
"show abit of leg" and managed to flag down a 4x4 piloted by a couple
of strapping 6 footers. On enquiring about a lift they said they could only take
3 of us, whether that meant in the car or taking 3 of us in another manner
we weren't sure, so we left Winners to accept their lift and left him to a
possible "Deliverance" style fate which we hoped would see him
"squealing like a hog". The rest of us procured a Taxi and within 10
minutes were back in Keswick on our way to find Winners at a pre-arranged
watering hole. On the way Miss Half Hill managed to have her switch card eaten
by the cash machine, which, understandably soured her mood for the evening. We
sat in the pub for more drinks with Nutters popping out to get the Sunday paper
to do the prize crossword which Winners managed to deface with assorted
profanities (courtesy of VIZ magazine) while Nutkins was at the bar getting the
refreshments in. Winners and Crampers then decided on a game of golf while there
was still light left, leaving Nuts and Halfhill in the pub for another drink,
which Louise managed to spill over the table. It was then decided to return to
the hotel and prepare for the evening.
We met up at the Keswick Lodge for tea where the food was
excellent as usual; even Winners couldn't find anything wrong to complain about.
After a while Louise had had enough and Nutkins walked her back to the hotel and
returned to meet the lads in another pub. A pint was had there and then we went
to the Kings Arms Hotel where we saw an extraordinary display by a Geordie who
was having a spot of trouble with the cigarette machine. The sounds of crashing
and banging filled the pub along with curses and the plaintive cries of his
girlfriend to "calm down". All of this culminated with the Northern
fellow bellowing to the barman " How do yer get the fookin' tabs oot o here
like!!” The barman having the correct number of brain cells showed him how to
do it and all was well again.
Crampers then said he'd had enough and was tired so made his
farewells and retired to his guesthouse before the midnight curfew was enforced.
Winners and Nutkins who had now been drinking for 12 hours decided it wasn't
time to stop just yet and after enquiring of the barman where we could carry on
was directed next door to Keswick’s no1 nightclub. In fact it was Keswick’s
only nightclub and it was soon filled up with locals who danced away to such
chap classics as "Livin' on a Prayer" and "Summer of '69" We
drank away the next 3 hours then took our leave and spilled back out onto the
streets. Winners, now being locked out of his own guesthouse proceeded to bunk
up in Hazeldene taking to Nutkins' bed causing Nutters to slip in beside Miss
HalfHill , but keeping his trousers on as a true gentleman should. Winners was
asleep in seconds and although comatose still managed to perform a thunderous
rendition of Jeremiah Clarke's Trumpet Voluntary from both ends, an outstanding
feat in anyone’s' book. All that was left was for Nutkins to give Louise Half
Hill a watery apologetic smile and for the pair of them to drift off into a
restless, disturbed sleep.
Day 4- 28th May 2007-“Three blokes and a bird” by
Louise
I was rudely awoken at three o clock by the entrance of Nutkins (oo-er) and Winners into the room. “It was shit, it was shit” said Winners when asked about the Nightclub, who got into bed and promptly started snoring and delivered some “Porkers Corkers”. Not much sleep was had. ……. He jumped up at 8:30 am and loudly thanked me for my services and left the B&B.
Whilst Winners had 40 winks (that’s WINKS) back at the Apple Trees, Crampers, Nutkins and myself met up and went to our favourite hardcore haunt, the Keswick tearooms. After an hour or so, we wondered had Winners met a superstar death and choked on his own vomit? We decided to go and check, only to be met with the tale that Winners had been verbally abused by the B&B owner for being twenty minutes late in vacating his room (Blond brummy lady part I believe were the exact words).
After visiting the flea market in the local church that smelt of wee, we got some food, and I pretended to be interested in cricket whilst we watched some highlights.
After that, it was time to go. Winners checked his tyres had not been let down by the B&B owner lady part. Nutkins then hit the A66, whilst listening to his “Best Ever” tape from early nineties-and it was quite good!
Made it home in about 4 hours.
Thanks for a brilliant time