What an epic few days.

This will be a relatively short blog as I am supposed to be packing.

I have tried to put several comments on other people’s blogs but I am being blocked for some reason, so I am doing an entry here to catch up.

I couldn’t begin to write about every aspect of the weekend & hopefully the photos will tell their own story. I neglected to take my camera out of its case for the whole weekend so if you want to see photos try …

Bloo4U or The Stan Files/Q Blog or Forum (plenty to keep you going for the time being)

I will describe elements of the weekend as & how they return to me & also try to explain a few of the weirder photos.

I finished work at 0600 on Friday morning and came home to find Eric on the phone to home. He had gone to bed at midnight & been awake at 0300, so was catching up with all the girls at home. After breakfast I went to bed for a few hours til 1200.

We paid a lightning visit to the fancy dress shop to get outfits for Stan & Eric & then aimed for the M25/M20 & Dover...

We were both feeling ropey & anticipating a ‘lively’ evening so we stopped at Clackett Lane for Pro-Plus and Red Bull. We did wonder briefly what would happen if we peaked before reaching Dover.

Once there, we parked outside & briefly discussed the possibility of sneaking off to our rooms for a granny-nap. Having discounted this as unrealistic & slightly anti-social, we girded ourselves to face the reception committee.

We met & chatted with the early arrivers, including Neil, Bruce, Sean, Coggers (aka Curly-Wurly) & Joe Here. The Cedar Lodge fire story featured heavily and also the time I was left, briefly, but not briefly enough in charge of a small domestic fire (& a container of diesel) at Ceol-ny-Mara.

‘Fire ! Fire !’

We once again brought the venue to a silent standstill be repeating Hitman’s outrageous confession. I love that story.

Friday was due to be a relatively quiet night so that we could manage Saturday. Needless to say, it was not. I got to bed somewhere around 3 after the night of ‘pant dungarees’ and ‘give me chicken Ramesh’

In between time, we spent our time in The Britannia. Up until Friday night, I thought the scuzziest pubs in England were to be found in Lambeth. I was so so wrong. Someone had even stolen the wallpaper from the Ladies, beat that, I defy you. Hx introduced me to a scarily addictive sludge called a ‘Mudslide’, which was a mix of coffee milkshake and vodka. It was evil. Cheers Hx, I owe you. That single drink accounts for the ‘You’re my besssht friend in the whole wide world’ look I am casting at Eric in the picture of him, Bloo & myself.

Pant dungarees originated because Bloo decided the best place for his KFC rubbish was down the back of my trousers. Unfortunately, he also grabbed a handful of thong, which got me to wondering if I could pull them over my shoulders like a wrestler’s leotard,

At the time the photograph was taken I am shouting

‘Rock on Tommy’

Oscar Wilde must be spinning in his grave.

Prior to that photo we had turned up ‘starving’ at KFC. We spent a long time deciding on our order & put it to Ramesh who happily informed us they were out of chicken. This prompted my rather determined sally upon the counter. I think I had it in my head to check & see if he was lying.

I am sporting a rather colourful bruise on my right shin now.

Saturday morning arrived all too quickly. We swapped war stories over a cooked breakfast then headed off for Folkestone Vets – v – Dukies of 85.
It was a hugely entertaining game, not least due to Jonny Davis’ legs and the repetitious but amusing banter from the Dukie support.

‘Throw the ball to Julian’ was the common refrain. (Julian being the very quick winger who most closely resembled a sportsman)

I think I’m right in reporting the score as 3 tries to nil for the Dukies.

After this, people moved inside for a pickled egg eating competition & a drinking a bottle of beer the fastest competition. Never let it be said that Dukies aren’t a sophisticated bunch. The winner was magnificent but I wouldn’t have wanted to share a room with him.

We watched the slightly embarrassing spectacle of the England - Canada walk-over then headed off to the hotel. Power-nap for me. Visiting rellys for Bloo.

Once dressed I realised belatedly I had forgotten big knickers to go under my rather short tunic. Luckily Hx came to the rescue with a pair of black cycling shorts. What an organiser, not only did she have some for herself but had brought a spare pair too. Even the mighty Mrs T would admire that level of preparedness.


With me dressed more appropriately we headed off to the Castle for a night of drinking, karaoke, falling-over, molestation, drink-throwing, show-food, dancing, shouting and illicit snogging. That was just me; I couldn’t tell you what anyone else got up to.

The funniest sight of the evening (with apologies to Hx) was when someone called Kevin or ‘Muggers’ arrived. It was a surprise to both Stan & Hx & neither one of them had seen him for several years. He had flown in from Colorado (I think) & they had no idea he was coming. Stan collapsed in a big, snotty, tearful heap on a slightly bemused Mugger’s shoulder, but Hx’s reaction was far more impressive.

Espying him from inside the pub, she raced out on 4” stiletto heels to greet him. Her shoes took her as far as the outside of the door, where they collapsed, catapulting her at a huge rate of knots to the floor. She landed in a position reminiscent of a quadruped practicing yoga with each leg facing in a different & unlikely position. You know how giraffe’s legs go when they stoop to drink from a watering-hole ? Like that.

Whilst falling, Hx threw her pint of Stella in the air. Not the glass you understand, just the contents. The liquid, still assuming the shape of the receptacle, described a perfect arc and landed in her pink bobbed wig.

Having watched the triple salko with pike twist, Muggers raised one wry eyebrow & said ‘Hello Helen’. Classic.

The resulting cut to her leg was much more impressive than your feeble elbow abrasion Bloo.

It was over all too quickly and, under the impression that we were heading for a club, I ran off, vaulting traffic islands (thank god for the cycling shorts) and anything in my way to start queuing at ‘Nuage’ or ‘New-Age’ as Doverians refer to it.

There was a large chav quotient in the queue whose reaction to my outfit, reminded me that I was dressed as a cat. I am surprised to report I had forgotten.

Once rescued from the slightly hostile crowd, we headed back to the County hotel for more drinks & another land-speed-attempt on KFC (they had chicken this time, obviously fearing another onslaught from a gobby, disappointed, counter-scaling Tyke)

During this walk home I vaguely remember being rugby-tackled by a passer-by. Bloo says the chap just held my knees together, whilst I fell, pathetically backwards, but my recollection is much more dramatic. Either way, I didn’t drop my chicken.

By midnight I had that ‘must go to bed’ feeling so saying the briefest of goodnights I headed for bed. I had just washed & changed into my jammies when I was rudely disturbed by a raucous Stan, Hx & Bloo.

We put the world to rights and decided we are all better off as sad lonely losers because as Stan put it ‘things only get messy once you get your willy involved’.

After the obligatory group photos we turned in for what should have been a very comfortable night, but was slightly spoiled by the group of chav kids who raced up & down the corridors on the 3rd floor playing the hotel equivalent of ‘knock-down-ginger’.

If only I could have raised my fat, throbbing head from the pillow they would have felt the rough edge of my tongue.

Sunday morning arrived in 3 hours & I was awoken by an annoyingly chipper Bloo with the Sunday papers. ‘I’ve been up for about an hour’ said he, only saving himself from certain doom by uttering his next sentence ‘Would you like tea ?’

After another cholesterol-packed brekkie and a change into smart clothing we set off for The Remembrance Day parade. I hadn’t expected the school to be so beautiful. Sweeping 400 acre grounds, established deciduous trees & the most stately of buildings scattered around the grounds combined to make me feel thoroughly overwhelmed.

The Duke of York Royal Military School didn’t admit girls when I was at school (some say they shouldn’t now) but I couldn’t help but be very envious that the lads had attended this very illustrious establishment.

Duke of York’s and what it represents to these people who meet up every year was starting to have some meaning.

After a parade with a fine-sounding young band, we headed to the Cenotaph for the 2 minute silence. I was disappointed with the behaviour of lots of the boys I saw during parade. This isn’t me being unfair, perhaps it’s just that girls respond better to discipline at that young age but I saw several lads fidgeting during the silence.

One chap in front of me shifted his weight from foot to foot as well as chewing gum. I know I’m harsh but if he’d been my kid, he would have been grounded for a week.

Bloo reckoned the emphasis has shifted from the military to academic prowess. Why not both, I want to know ?

After more chatting after parade, we headed off to (you’re ahead of me aren’t you ?) the pub yet again. I managed an orange-juice and lemonade and then it was time for the farewells.

With everyone promising to see each other in a year, we headed off to get stuck in the 3 day old tailbacks on the M25.

The End

Having spent the weekend surrounded by other people, it was a welcome diversion when Bill suggested the cinema on Sunday evening. We went to see Bridget Jones - Edge of Reason which was as good as the 1st. The 2 shots to look out for are the panoramic, Pan London, pull-back shot from Bridget looking out of her flat window. Very expensive, very Moulin Rouge, very effective. And also the final graveyard scene – quite stunningly beautiful.

Today Milky came to lunch to give me some travelling CD’s and to try & work out why my pooter won’t let me get into my Yahoo account. He failed but made up for it in company stakes. He is finding his way around Q4A & finds it very confusing to see references to another Milky. Will it have to be Bridget & Milky from now on ?

Speaking of which, thanks for the pressie Bridget, I hope they weren’t for Xmas, Eric has eaten most of them already ;) It was a beautiful name ticket, you are a clever girl.

I know I’ve missed loads out & I apologise (especially to the person who has difficulty with doors, but you’ll understand why)

I may get chance to Blog again tomorrow before leaving at about 6pm.

If I don’t – see you on the other side

Cx