Thursday, 12 February 2009

The Lobster Pot, The Dulais Glen and The Farmers Field

Maybe it's something to do with my age as these days my brain decides to go off on a journey on it's own when I relax control over it. I regularly find my mind wandering back to the days of my youth and remembering some quite inconsequential things that have been said or done.

One such event  happened when I had spent several hours in my local the Dulais Glen with a friend by the name of Huw Powell. Sadly the pub is long gone but its memory still lingers in my mind even though it is somewhat hazy at times.

Huw and myself came out of the pub and wandered up the main road of the Bont, there was not much traffic in those days as the recently opened M4 had taken a lot of vehicles away. We eventually made it up to Franks chippy and ordered a bag of chips each. As the road was quiet we decided to sit down on the edge of the kerb to consume the aforementioned chips.

Strange things happen to your co-ordination when you have consumed excessive amounts of alcohol and things that normally could be accomplished with ease can prove to be difficult if not impossible.

Take sitting down on the floor with a carton of chips in one hand. Normally, your arm will move automatically to keep the carton on a level keel. But when in a state of drunkenness, the arm tends to maintain it's position with respect to the rest of the body. This means that when you lower yourself fairly quickly to the floor in a sitting position, whatever is in your hand gets catapulted over your shoulder.

This is basically what happened to me and I ended up on the pavement with an empty carton of chips in one hand, Huw beside himself with laughter and me wondering what bugger had nicked my chips.

My one consolation to this is that sometime later, I remember him wading up the Loughor river with a cheap bottle of sherry held to his lips. The bottle was half empty at this point and he fell over and went head first into the river. Upon emerging, he found that the bottle had miraculously managed to refill itself, and he carried on drinking even though the taste of the sherry had changed somewhat by this time.

And then there was Blackpool, myself Huw, Abdrew Dyer and Wyn Richards had driven up there for the weekend to see a car show. We parked up and decided to sample the night life and eventually started to get very drunk. Eventually some girls from Middlesbrough sat by us, they told us they were nurses and we were quite honest and advised them we were fighter pilots etc. However we were far too naive to realise that they were interested in other things and to be honest we were so drunk that the other things were probably impossible.

We left the pub and meandered to the fun fair where I managed to lose my camera, I then climbed on the roller coaster and went round on this for an hour or so. I eventually staggered off and set about finding my friends. We eventually retired to the car park and spent the night sleeping in the car. The following morning we arose and cleaned up in the local toilets, we  bought some milk from a passing milk man and made our way to the show.

The show was quite enjoyable and we eventually made our way back home with no pictures. One of our party, I won't mention who, had become infatuated with one of the Middlesbrough girls, so much that he eventually made his way up there, knocked at the door and was greeted by a large gorilla who happened to be her boyfriend.


And then there was the time that myself, Greg Davies and his brother Stephen, Dai Bone, Keith Ivy and possibly a few others decided to drive out in the middle of nowhere to park in a farmers field and watch a film on my black and white ITT KB portable TV. At the time I had a hand painted black Vauxhall Viva (see car stuff for more information). I foolishly let someone drive my car round the field and all I remember seeing was one of our party clinging onto the roof for dear life while the driver tried to throw him off.

Eventually we tired of these antics and made our way back to civilisation only to be stopped at the gates of the field by the farmer and a policeman. We all got out of our cars and the policeman asked us what we were doing up here. Greg helpfully answered "everybody has to be somewhere". I was then asked why there was a dent in the roof of my car, there was a loud bang as someone smacked the roof from the inside and shouted out "what dent". By this time I was resigned to being taken into custody, but I explained to the police that we had come up to the field to sit down and watch TV, showed him the portable on the back seat and he let us go.

Many other things happened over the years and these will be the subject of another ramble sometime.