Visited with Root, Oxygen Thief and Mr. Squirrel911.
It was sure to be a good weekend when we started as we meant to go on by spending Friday night in the pub, abusing the locals and only having an hours sleep despite having to get up early to catch the train. We talked of sugar puffs, Squirrel showed off his lumpy leg and I refused to do the pants trick. We staggered back to the house and watched all the gory bits of "SCUM" before passing out and being awoken at 5:30am by the arrival of Root. We naffed around a bit so we were seriously behind schedule until Root pressed the turbo button and we were in Dover in 2 hours.
ZOOOOOOM the train journey went by in a flash even though I was ill for most of it. All fairness went out the window as I was the only one who didn't drink but felt like I had the worst hangover in the world. Soon it was time for breakfast which consisted of chicken curry and a tart.
We got so stuck in the Parisian traffic on the way to picking Rug up so we watched "Fight Club" on Root's in car DVD player.
Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Finally! We met Rug at Port D'Orleans and zoomed off to Nemours by way of a Carrefour (look out for the "C"-blink and you miss it). By far the best shop in the world, we gathered together various slabs of meat, boxes of beer and a warrior torch on a stick! I spilled yogurt down my top that looked like spunk, the car looked concerned as we loaded yet more stuff into the back of it and we all ate Schoko bon bons (food of the gods).
Root yelped as Rug told him we had one more person to pick up (but she was a girl so it was ok). However, when we tried to go over a speed bump....
CRUNNNNNNCHHHHH SCRAAAAPPPP!!!!!!!!
"Everyone get out!!" *the car breathes a sigh of relief*
Dismount! All the meat and cheese comes out of the car and makes its way to the campsite with the exception of the English cheese we brought over (I still don't know where that cheese is, did it make it back to Hull?) We set up camp, enjoy the last hours of sunshine and wait for the other guests to arrive.
We light the fire but it gobbles up wood fast so me, OT and Rug go in search of fire wood. Looking for wood is a hard task so we stop many times for beer and a smoke which makes the evening turn psychedelic. Soon I find myself on top of a cliff staring up at the sky
"B...b....b..but it's so big and the universe is expanding!"
"Into what?"
"A figure of eight!"
3 hours have passed and we realise the party is in full swing below our feet underground so we make our way back down the hillside to find Squirrel chatting up the first of many French girls that evening.
Inside the quarry it's cool and refreshing from the outside humidity. The ground is like walking in custard powder. It's so surreal and the uneven sand is killing my foot but as we turn the corner....
"Oh.... my.....fucking...god!" -Underground parties...you're doin' it right!
This is the sight we are confronted with. It's like Aladdin's Cave of Wonders. The chamber is lit up by LED bulbs in balloons hanging from the ceiling. Tealights and carbide lamps are everywhere and elsewhere, someone is practicing fire poi ready for tonight's show.
Midnight slips into morning and then a few hours just disappear. I wake up absolutely freezing on the ice cold sand and try to convince OT to steal Squirrel's airbed. This goes on for hours until we finally decide we've had enough and that it's a really good idea to try and find our way round the quarry with one tiny headtorch. Tired, hungry and freezing, I start swearing at the stray rocks lying around-sense of humour fails!
Once outside again, we find Squirrel chatting up some more "She's Iranian!!" women. Sleep. I need sleep. "Let's find another cliff!" About two hours sleep later, I wake up and find we've fallen asleep on an ant's nest. A group of French people are leaping across the ravine to our campsite ignoring the fact there are some English people passed out on the rocks in front of them.
But what a sight to wake up to!
Time to get some exploring done of the beautiful sand quarry.
We gather our kit together after one of the craziest nights ever and stagger back to the car. Limbs are uncooperative and dehydration kicks in. We need some dirty McDonalds but not until Root has abused the traffic cone some more.
It's boiling hot on the way back into Paris and late into the afternoon before we make it back to Calais to find out our train reservation has been cancelled and we have to take the boat instead. Slightly pissed off but even more delirious with tiredness, everything suddenly becomes really funny from the guy with the kilt wandering around to the guy at passport control. We drive onto the boat...
"Argggggghhh so many numbers!! I'm not a mathmatician!"
The ferry is depressingly funny too. There's loads of bikers on their way back from a race stuffing their faces with overpriced 5 piece meals. Kids running around and grumpy old men make it an even more pleasurable alternative to the care-free quietness of the train.
Finally, we are back in Dover and disembarking off the ferry when we get stopped by the port guard.....
Guard: "And what was the nature of your trip?"
Root: "Holiday"
Guard: "How long for?"
Root: "Couple of days"
Guard: "Does the child belong to any of you?"
All four of us: "What child?!!"
Guard: "That one" *pointing to Rookinella*
All four of us: "Bahhh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha"
Rookinella: "I'm very flattered.... I think. You're all going to jail LOL!"
The lady is apologetic as she lets "the child" drive away with her three fathers probably still thinking that she has let a paedophile ring back into the UK.
Ahhh good times...marmite porridge anyone?
A big thanks to Rug for inviting us and looking after us so well. This is how ALL piss ups should be.
It was sure to be a good weekend when we started as we meant to go on by spending Friday night in the pub, abusing the locals and only having an hours sleep despite having to get up early to catch the train. We talked of sugar puffs, Squirrel showed off his lumpy leg and I refused to do the pants trick. We staggered back to the house and watched all the gory bits of "SCUM" before passing out and being awoken at 5:30am by the arrival of Root. We naffed around a bit so we were seriously behind schedule until Root pressed the turbo button and we were in Dover in 2 hours.
ZOOOOOOM the train journey went by in a flash even though I was ill for most of it. All fairness went out the window as I was the only one who didn't drink but felt like I had the worst hangover in the world. Soon it was time for breakfast which consisted of chicken curry and a tart.
We got so stuck in the Parisian traffic on the way to picking Rug up so we watched "Fight Club" on Root's in car DVD player.
Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Finally! We met Rug at Port D'Orleans and zoomed off to Nemours by way of a Carrefour (look out for the "C"-blink and you miss it). By far the best shop in the world, we gathered together various slabs of meat, boxes of beer and a warrior torch on a stick! I spilled yogurt down my top that looked like spunk, the car looked concerned as we loaded yet more stuff into the back of it and we all ate Schoko bon bons (food of the gods).
Root yelped as Rug told him we had one more person to pick up (but she was a girl so it was ok). However, when we tried to go over a speed bump....
CRUNNNNNNCHHHHH SCRAAAAPPPP!!!!!!!!
"Everyone get out!!" *the car breathes a sigh of relief*
Dismount! All the meat and cheese comes out of the car and makes its way to the campsite with the exception of the English cheese we brought over (I still don't know where that cheese is, did it make it back to Hull?) We set up camp, enjoy the last hours of sunshine and wait for the other guests to arrive.
We light the fire but it gobbles up wood fast so me, OT and Rug go in search of fire wood. Looking for wood is a hard task so we stop many times for beer and a smoke which makes the evening turn psychedelic. Soon I find myself on top of a cliff staring up at the sky
"B...b....b..but it's so big and the universe is expanding!"
"Into what?"
"A figure of eight!"
3 hours have passed and we realise the party is in full swing below our feet underground so we make our way back down the hillside to find Squirrel chatting up the first of many French girls that evening.
Inside the quarry it's cool and refreshing from the outside humidity. The ground is like walking in custard powder. It's so surreal and the uneven sand is killing my foot but as we turn the corner....
"Oh.... my.....fucking...god!" -Underground parties...you're doin' it right!
This is the sight we are confronted with. It's like Aladdin's Cave of Wonders. The chamber is lit up by LED bulbs in balloons hanging from the ceiling. Tealights and carbide lamps are everywhere and elsewhere, someone is practicing fire poi ready for tonight's show.
Midnight slips into morning and then a few hours just disappear. I wake up absolutely freezing on the ice cold sand and try to convince OT to steal Squirrel's airbed. This goes on for hours until we finally decide we've had enough and that it's a really good idea to try and find our way round the quarry with one tiny headtorch. Tired, hungry and freezing, I start swearing at the stray rocks lying around-sense of humour fails!
Once outside again, we find Squirrel chatting up some more "She's Iranian!!" women. Sleep. I need sleep. "Let's find another cliff!" About two hours sleep later, I wake up and find we've fallen asleep on an ant's nest. A group of French people are leaping across the ravine to our campsite ignoring the fact there are some English people passed out on the rocks in front of them.
But what a sight to wake up to!
Time to get some exploring done of the beautiful sand quarry.
We gather our kit together after one of the craziest nights ever and stagger back to the car. Limbs are uncooperative and dehydration kicks in. We need some dirty McDonalds but not until Root has abused the traffic cone some more.
It's boiling hot on the way back into Paris and late into the afternoon before we make it back to Calais to find out our train reservation has been cancelled and we have to take the boat instead. Slightly pissed off but even more delirious with tiredness, everything suddenly becomes really funny from the guy with the kilt wandering around to the guy at passport control. We drive onto the boat...
"Argggggghhh so many numbers!! I'm not a mathmatician!"
The ferry is depressingly funny too. There's loads of bikers on their way back from a race stuffing their faces with overpriced 5 piece meals. Kids running around and grumpy old men make it an even more pleasurable alternative to the care-free quietness of the train.
Finally, we are back in Dover and disembarking off the ferry when we get stopped by the port guard.....
Guard: "And what was the nature of your trip?"
Root: "Holiday"
Guard: "How long for?"
Root: "Couple of days"
Guard: "Does the child belong to any of you?"
All four of us: "What child?!!"
Guard: "That one" *pointing to Rookinella*
All four of us: "Bahhh ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha"
Rookinella: "I'm very flattered.... I think. You're all going to jail LOL!"
The lady is apologetic as she lets "the child" drive away with her three fathers probably still thinking that she has let a paedophile ring back into the UK.
Ahhh good times...marmite porridge anyone?
A big thanks to Rug for inviting us and looking after us so well. This is how ALL piss ups should be.
Last edited:
