As mentioned last week, Friday afternoon saw the 4 contributors to this blog (although 3 of them are mostly silent partners) off on our Annual All Day Drinking session.
Turn out was good, with 100% attendance, and the drinking pace was just right. We all started off with a large Bushy Bugger to get a good drink foundation laid. Then we started off talking shitte and steadily drinking.
Once we were at the Bridge sat in the Sun. and from there you can see the Drinking & Thinking Tree that Ady & I visited last year. It was decided that once again the pilgrimage would be taken. However, we are all a year old and slower, plus we had cripple Ferguson and his crutch with us.
However, armed with a couple of bottles of beer each, we set off on the trek. There was some consternation on seeing the “ladder” we had to climb at the start, but this was over come by the encouragement from our peers. “Come on you faggot, it’s not that hard”, “Christ I doubt it’ll take your weight, you fat bastard”.
Once the “ladder” was negotiated, then it was a short(ish) walk up a steep hill through the Gorse, which was easy enough for all us no shorts wearers (yes, Brittle Bone Ferguson again).
Finally there was only a barb wire fence between us and complete relaxation under a fine looking tree, on a hill side over looking Douglas, on a gorgeously sunny July afternoon (not forgetting the cold beers).
This is where I picked up my trapped nerve injury, trying to help the hefty black man Ferguson over the top of the wire.
Anyhoo, we made it, and settle down to drink the rest of the beers and talk more shitte and rest in the sun.
That was until Aidster, decided that the tree needed climbing. There was a bit of nylon rope dangling from it, where some lithe youngsters had presumably made a swing. So with some puffing and panting and a lot of sweating, Aidster made it up. Bellowed his triumph, examined the hole in his jeans he had just made and then posed for photo’s.
Then realisation dawned over his face, as he realised, “What goes up, Must come down!” especially if they wanted another bottle of beer.
There was no other way round it, without thinking through the logistics’ or with any fore-thought at all, he held on to the rope with one meaty fist and sort of threw himself forward.
17 stone of fat muscle majestically flew through the air for about half a second until the rope went taught, Then 17 stone of fat muscle went crashing in to the tree and then towards the ground.
He was actually lucky to get away with the injuries he did. Initially we thought he had broken his arm, as it looked like a bone was sticking through the skin. However, he managed to get away, with bruises, cuts and severe rope burn to his hand. By Christ we laughed.
After this we trekked back to the nearest Pub, and settled down to a beer and a game of dominoes.
After this it all starts to get a bit hazy. (Plus I can’t be bothered to type any more.)
So I can’t really remember much. I know we didn’t do anything that we should be ashamed off.
Ady & I were dancing in the Outback, when the gayest gay that ever Gayed started his Bronski Beat dancing right next to us.
Of course come midnight, we were all very very very drunk, and finished off with take-away and taxi home.
A very good night indeed.
Mikey’s memoirs were:
Memories from Friday night:
1. Being accosted by the Upper Douglas Chapter of the Klu Klux Klan
2. Seeing Ady, Paul and 'friend' dance in The Outback
3. Watching PaulK and his mate chatting about servers (or whatever) in Havana
4. Watching PaulB disappear from view in the long grass on the Howe
5. Seeing the look on Ady's face as he realised he had to get down from the tree
Actually, most of the day/night is a blur as the drink took hold. But I think we were pretty well behaved.
I remember these pubs (in this order): Rovers, Bridge, DrinkingTree, Railway, Outback, Havana, Outback.
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