ramblings of a rambler

Being woken up by the alarm clock everyday Monday to Friday (6.47am – ten minutes snooze then up at 7am) leaves you craving for the days when that excruciating brain drilling sound can be turned off for some well deserved weekend shore leave on the land of nod. Sadly, ‘she’ works Saturday and Sunday, so this duvet dallier becomes an intrepid explorer...

There’s not much to do early doors at the weekend, TV is pretty naff now I’ve sort of grown up. Breakfast news’ constant repetition of three un-newsworthy events that wouldn’t even get mentioned in passing with your neighbour, seem to be on a loop that only the blank stare of Suzanne Reid can keep my intense gaze long enough for a guilty pleasure, before flicking the doofer (that’s changing the channel on the remote for those who have never lived with me) to freesports – the Korean break dancers kept my attention for 10 minutes, until ‘she’ came downstairs to see me tangled in a head spin. That leaves Toonattik, which is only good for SpongeBob square pants and that’s it, seeing as we no longer have sky - that’s another story...

...anyway, I'm rambling *rimshot* where was I....intrepid explorer and head off out for a walk. Not one of them walks when you are about to flip or them walks when you are going under, but a good ole fashioned stroll. A mooch across the map. Putting that twenty year old Gore-Tex rare ‘colour way’ *cringes* through its paces.

anyway nipping out for bit of fresh air getting some fresh bread for your cobs/muffins/barms etc etc is ...this can be done by easily slipping on whatever shoes are left by the door. Mine are all put safely away back in their box, upstairs, in the drobe – (fear of night fairies stealing them) – this leads to working out what ensemble to piece together and actually looking at the weather thinking what would..well er weather best

A strong herd of about twenty were loitering with intent 200 yards, when one of the saw me…I hoofed it over a fence, peering through some bushes when there was a grunt – face to face/toe to hoof with their main lad – bully. Wide shoulders, nose ring – and he looked horny! It was a bull. I was in a field.. But you knew that didn’t you

It was like being an extra in withnail and I –no not Richard Griffiths.

Strolling at a steady pace along the canal, nodding to fellow trekkers as we passed – the urge for a piss took hold. Now you know that feeling when you’ve been supping ale on a mini bus for an hour or two and you are in between the pub/the ground/the service station, but you feel like you’re going to burst open and no? Just me then (must get to the Doctors about that)…well anyway, the need to urinate was very strong – after a brief moment of panic, the realisation that there wasn’t another person in sight or even a building for a few miles, mad eme just unzip and do it up a tree– a rabbit did jump out and went for cover as a fog of waz steam blocked up his burrow, but there was none of that awkward silence, eyes down at the trough though.

It was invigorating/probably illegal.


The whole point of this gibberish is to introduce you to walking. Most of you can probably walk – it’s sort of natural - but getting into goretex/mountain/outdoor gear and sensible footwear, whilst heading off into the great unknown ties in quite well with some of the great organisations/clubs/groups that have been around for longer than us.

Since its 1935 inauguration, the Ramblers has helped coax, campaign and path by path build England, Scotland and Wales into some of the most walk-friendly countries in the world.

So, randomly, here is an interview with the Chief executive of the Ramblers Association...
“It is at the heart of walking in Britain”.

to carry on or not to carry on - hand luggage is the question

Do you ever get those feelings of excitement, anticipation, zeal, eagerness, and fervour before a holiday?

You’ll never guess what? I don’t.

Its heady concoction of worry, nerves, panic, fear, rolled into one ‘phat’ rizla (silvers) then hand-bonged into white death oblivion only to have a flashback on the return leg. It’s not the flying or strange ‘foreign muck’ even being out of my comfort zone, lost in a brave new world – it’s the krypton factor task of sorting out hand luggage.

Ted: “Eh? Where’s your suitcase?”
Proper: “Its man/holdall/messenger/rucksack/fishermans/satchel bags round here. Don’t you know darling!”

Now various airlines offer a range of guidelines to what is ‘deemed acceptable’ – 5cms in width, length, depth or girth - which surely there must be some Leigh way on? (Our female readership will confirm there is most certainly not - hello Countess Von ‘my boyfs got size 13 feet’ Taylor).

Well when you are faced with most defo not even being an hour early for check in, let alone the recommended 2 hours, you want to glide on through that check in and straight to the over priced food, crisps and fizzy drinks before boarding (rider included: BLT sandwich, bag of skips, twix and Summer fruits oasis) as queuing opens the ‘didthatreallyhappen.xls’ spreadsheet from the ‘pet hates’ folder (see also alton towers thingymebob).

All the bags, suitcases are kept in the loft. Sounds simple, but so is everything else that has been acquired over the last 30 years – prams, baby clothes, photos, books, tents, sleeping bags, a massive box of lego bricks etc etc…instead of climbing up and down the ladder, sucking in my svelte physique to get through the mole-made excuse for an entrance (why are loft ‘doorways’, so tiny?) – anyhoo, taking a tape measure up to the bags is indeed a better option. However, its dark and very very hot.

Being bent over a box of GI joe figures, salty fluid dripping down your cheek (don’t get me started on fluids, more of that later) whilst plastic inches slip through your fingers during an intimate wrestle with a black box, may appeal to some, but not under this roof – quite literally.

On flight reading material – a certain smutty comic sat along side – Propermag could be included in this, but even I fly more than bi-annually).

To help you avoid the above dilemma, theres a list of great ‘bags’ to follow…actually theres not. We couldn’t be bothered and you properly wouldn’t buy them or even look, so why waste all our time.

Cordially yours

Gerry

interview with a brewer

Blue Monkey

gerry berry beer festival

Pics

Early train..bumped up to first class by telling them it was me bof-dey - fry up...hotel smoker...stunk...best onion gravy, peppered mash with pork leek sauasfges served by hairy armpitted crusitie with a cornish accent...

FILM 2009 with Gerry, well sort of...

I've done something that I'm not proud of, nor ashamed of, but something that deep inside of me a feeling of wrongness wretches my gut – I went to the cinema.

Alone.

I can sense you have a wry smile on your chops and are dying to laugh, but don’t feel sorry for me. It’s not due to having no one to go with. There are actually people I’ve met, spoke to and befriended over the years, some I’d even call ‘pals’. Not showing off, but I have made and kept lots of friends and acquaintances over the years, (216 Facebook buddies proves that). Well all it really proves is that I have the ability to remember peoples full names and asking them to accept a friends request, which is the only contact I’ll ever have with them again. who I keep in touch with and regularly see – they sometimes even instigate the conversations and demand the meetings - I promise its not all one sided (It is. Ed).

Now, the actual film isn’t important, but it was something I wanted to see, but no one else did. Even my current squeeze didn’t want to see it. She doesn’t usually make me sit through stuff I don’t want to, we actually do stuff we both enjoy together (uncanny int it), but she just didn’t fancy it. I could have forced her, but she does enough selfless acts - some she even carries out in her sleep – so let this one slip.

However, there are times in life where you have to go it alone. There’s not always going to be someone to keep you company, guide you, there to hold your hand or even want to do the same things as you – I’ve always prouded myself as being an odd bod, an outsider, an individual, some may even say a maverick so I thought fook it and push the boundaries of social acceptance, I sit at home watching DVDs on me tod weekly, you’d go shopping on your own? You’d go for a walk, even to the gym, who needs to share in the experience with others?

Not me.

I thought not anyway, but the paranoia in the queue just asking for one ticket was uncomfortable, but nothing like the great whitey of 2002 (which would make a great FRANK advert) and by the time I’d taken my seat and someone asks, “anyone sitting here?”, a confident self-righteous “no – I’ve come on my own” came from my chapped lips (I refuse to ‘balm’). Although, even in the dark cinema, with just the lights across the floor that look like a futuristic landing strip made from cats eyes, as she slowly backed off I could see her ultra violet bluey fake smile, through gritted teeth not with happiness, joy or acceptance, but concern.

For herself.

For her friend.

For the whole of humanity.

As the fear on her face screams “get me out of here, she says actually says, ”oh.. its ok - there's seats down there…on the front row”.

The front row? Ha and ha. She must of been desperate to get away! Her loss, at least my satchel (its not a fooking manbag, alright?) now got a place all of its own. It also made it easier for me to reach in and get the opal fruits and bockle of panda pop I purchased from the shop outside and not the over priced rip off merchants with their fake smile perking from under their cap and their too big/too small bright red polo shirt, collar “popped” of course– stick that in yer popcorn darling. Anyone would of thought the devil had seeped out of my jaw. Its not like I was going to feel her up or get my lad out during the film – I save that behaviour for my dates.

You know what though? I proper enjoyed it. A life changing experience – there was no need to share my sweets with anyone, no one asked me what was happening or say, ”oh oh oh, was he in that film with Angelina Jolie?” or “didn’t he go out with that woman from Corrie”...I don’t know love, I don’t care. I’m watching him right now in this is all I’m bothered about, not talking to you through it, just flipping look on the internet movie database when you get in and stop spoiling this cinematic experience I’ve just paid £6.50 for the privilege for! Its times like that I feel like saying to them, ‘we are clearly not compatible and I would no longer like you to be my friend/potential romantic partner/care worker, can you leave the cinema and my life now.

Please.

Thank-you.

Oh and un-tag me from them photo's of us together.

It was liberating realising that you can be content with your ow company, next month there’s another film I really want to see. No doubt anyone I hang about with will want to see that either……don’t this isn’t a cry for help or a way of making new friends, it’s warning/advice/suggesting/call to arms but if anyone wants to go, make your own way there, get your own refreshments, don’t sit next to me, enjoy the film and feel the burden of social stigma lifted from your back.

COMING SOON:
Breaking more social taboos by going out for dinner alone, not as in mc’ds, somewhere with table service, like nando’s or posher and assessing why friends are actually friends.

relationships are all about compromise right?

!!! INSERT FAMILY FUN DAY PHOTO HERE !!!

Wrong - its a basically a turn taking balancing act (well I do stuff just to get a guaranteed nosh) that puts your wits on high alert and cunning to its limits.

Yesterday I was informed 'she' wanted to get up early, so ‘we’ could spend the whole day together, romance int dead yet mon ami !

*hears moans *

A nice stroll around the Derbyshire dales - ashborne, matlock, buxton, crich, even chatsworth or head to nottinghamshire for wollaton, newstead abbey maybe even sherwood forest, then find in a quaint tea shop or country boozer for some decent scran and ales......surely most woman would go weak at the knees at these ideas, but not mine.

“have you seen these vouchers in the sun...” (it was never going to be good was it?)
“to get into Alton towers for half price?”

Let me take a moment to tell you the two things I hate most in life (other than odd socks);

1. Queuing

2. Being spun upside down.

She knows this.

And that I don't read the Sun. That's three things, naymind.

However, as already agreeing on the ‘it’s your day, we can do anything you want to do’, there wasn't much choice, plus she called me a scaredy cat.

Then a puff.

Being 100% comfortable with my sexuality, never having a tiny bit of doubt or twitch to 'experiment', this didn’t even register. Cats though? I fooking hate the two-faced snide shitcunts - there was no way I was being lumbered into that cat-egory.

To cut a long story short (hey-its about the deats int it) I drove us there - she criticised me all the way and laughed, due to me never driving on a motorway before (thats another story) - parked miles out, which they charge you a fiver for!?!?!?! to use their theme park?????? Then had to get a monorail to the entrance - I felt claustrophobic on that, never mind when I saw the massive lines of people waiting to go into a concentration camp, then a dozen legs whizzing past upside down and screams not heard since the miners welfare was torched...It cost me – yes me - 36 quid for us both, nearly a full weeks JSA, which was with the BOGOF offer. Kirsty on the counter asked if ‘we’ i.e. me wanted to pay an extra 8 quid for some queue jumping thing - fook that – However, later as I stood waiting in line for over an hour, I wish had.

There’s tons of other annoying stuff, like weird music playing out of trees, water being sprayed over you, people in fancy dress trying to sell you more tat – although for the money, the sun caught my cheeks (being stood in queues all day), had to eat a burger king for 8quid (whopper meal), got neck ache and a dizzy feeling that only the Tuesday blues can give you. We only managed to go on 4 rides - none of which I enjoyed, but next time she calls me a puff/scaredy cat, I’ll just point to the pic of me and her on the 'nemesis' - me doing the thumbs up, her looking like shes having a poo.

Good times.

UPDATE:

After agreeing that once a new ride is built, is the only way I’d take her again – thinking at the time we were deep in the heart of a recession, they’d never have spare cash, guess what? They’ve only gone and built one!

You have to sign a disclaimer before you get on!

I’m going to dump her instead.

the loneliness of an internet forum board member

Thread last edited by gerry at 19:33 2nd September 2008

SUBJECT: The loneliness of a forum board member.

It’s a Saturday morning, 11.13 am to be precise. The weather outside is clement. Mums go visiting family, people are going to Weddings, dads chat over the fence to neighbours about grass growing techniques (more fertilising than hydroponics), lads go to the football match, have a few scoops, discuss latest signings, maybe even get their hands dirty.

Me? I prefer to sit indoors. On my own with laptop on knee, in the dark. The amount of information at my finger tips is endless; being able to learn new skills, hobbies, read about history, politics or the news events from all around the globe – I don’t need to travel, its all in front of me.
But no – that’s not what I do. I spend my time looking at clothes, a clip of a scally getting floored by hong kong phooey, a banned Guinness advert (not due its sexual hints, but because its shite) listening to obscure disco records and just a few minutes a week on soul destroying grot (honestly, it doesn’t take me long), but most of free time and my work time (my boss wont read this) is spent in the secret underworld of internet forums.

Now, its hard work filtering out the wheat from the chaff in everyday life – especially when you forced to sit next to a samehead for 36.5 hours, Monday to Friday – but with the internet, you can avoid all the wagons by joining message boards with people who you already know you will get on with – music, films, clothes, football; all these things make you instant 'bessie' cyber mates.

Its like having hundreds of pals, with a hundred conversations going on at once, that you can get into at any time. It’s a good feeling knowing your’re not alone in this world with you weird obsessions, but there are like-minded individuals in the same boat – even if you can’t agree what deck shoes are best to wear in said boat.
If someone is talking shite, you can tell em without getting fear of violence, even if they threaten to open the shooter cabinet.

Lets face it, its hard work making an effort outside the comfort of your house. You need to buy new gear, decide what to wear, get wet travelling there, then all the melvs en route will just enrage you, making you want to go home. That’s if you can find a decent boozer or afford to go to one!

Internet forums ARE the new going out.

FACT.

So im not sad, im just ahead of my time – even if cords, 20-year-old gortex and tweed are highlights of discussion! There are some downsides to spending 90 hours a week staring at a 17” screen and I think all this time spent on the cyberspace is affecting my ability to cope with everyday life and social situations…

Sometimes its hard to find the words you want to express on forum boards, so some geek invented emoticons that put how you are feeling into happy pictures. So, I thought I’d tried this out on the real world; be warned though, holding up the picture of a yellow circle holding a pint don’t always get you served and When gorping at someone’s footwear to discuss on the internet, if they ask you, “what?” dont reply with a small business card with a sign saying “gay code” on it, I think the irony is lost.

*goes off to build that machine out of the lawn mower man*

Next time:

- Coming out to your family you’ve made a friend off the “internet”.

- Attending a convention of forum board members aka the meet

- How to remember meaningful life facts instead of lads who you’ve never met shoe size and pit to pit measurement.