Thursday, 1 August 2013

Lenor Got Married

The news took most of us by surprise. "yer all invited" she said. Saturday afternoon.  When quizzed , Lenor revealed the identity of her new partner - Dave "Daz" Fazakerley - oddly enough, from Fazakerley. many people thought this unlikely. I thought it unlikely. The nickname seemed appropriate, though. There was, however, something Not Quite Right about Daz.

Would this affect Lenor's membership of T'Go team? "Not likely" declares Lenor, although it was noted, in church, by those who attended that bit of the wedding, that she'd promised to obey.  When asked about this afterwards, all she could say was to "...mind yer own fckn business" although she did mention, after her fourth or fifth WKD of the evening that "this sort o' thing keeps 'im 'appy"

The reception was a happy affair, held in the Committee Room, upstairs at the Ferret and only descending into violence towards the end. There was no need to call the police. Injuries were mainly fairly slight. Very few remembered it the next day anyway. Sausage rolls don't make effective weapons anyway. Daz's accusation that the photographer had been "looking" at his new bride seemed to have started the fracas. A fracas was probably inevitable anyway. If it hadn't been the photographer, it would have been the vicar. or Beefburger...  or anybody....

We still needed to lose one team member, even though, the betting was that Daz wouldn't be too keen on his new love going off with a load of men for a fortnight, even though they were as apparently harmless as me, Sedge and Beefburger

We decided that a long walk would do it - sorta sort out the committed from the chaff, or the chiff from the  . It would have to be on a Sunday.  Beefburger said he had a map, Febreze giggled for some reason (may have been the voddy), Sedge announced that we'd have to be careful.

Sunday. Bright and early. Half ten. Stubbly Pike. 

Saturday, 20 July 2013

The Team Comes Together - The Feminine Touch

It had long been a tradition in the Wainwright family to have a slightly more sophisticated and adventurous naming system than was traditional in the more hilly parts of Far West Yorkshire.

It had started fairly well in the early 1950's when Marlene was born. Marlene was followed, almost two years later by Maureen. 1956 was Darleen's emergence into the world, followed by  Stergene roughly two years later. The joke was that the next one would be called "Windowlene" which was felt to be appropriate as The Dad of the family was  Alf  the local window cleaner. Alf's seen a lot of life from the top of his ladder, has Alf.  No, it wasn't that Alf Wainwright, it was another one.... although this one did smoke a pipe and had a rather laid-back way of speaking, so much so that  people in  a hurry often used to finish his sentences for him.

Maureen was the only one to produce progeny and, after a specially merry 1976 Christmas Eve, rumoured to have been a fairly rough and fumbled affair in the back yard of the Tackler's Ferret - which, incidentally , caused some disarray amongst the empty kegs and frightened Mrs Jones's cat Tigger, Maureen fell pregnant and, in the late summer of 1977, gave birth to a bouncing baby girl, Lenor, thus modernising the naming system, yet bringing the whole thing more up-to-date in line with the white heat of modern technology and the the form of the  introduction of colour TV with adverts. (although this, in itself wasn't really all that new.)

It is often said that lightening never strikes twice. This may be true, except in the case of Christmas Eve 1994 in the back yard of the Tackler's Ferret and, on that night, whilst shepherd's watched a repeat of a Morecambe and Wise Christmas special, and as the final chord of "Here it is Merry Christmas" by Slade rang out of the Tackler's juke box, the empty kegs were roughly disarrayed once more and Maureen's second daughter Febreze was conceived.

Oddy enough, Lenore and Febreze shared the same birthday and often claimed to be  unidentical twins, although Febreze couldn't quite get her head around the grammar and told people they were "unidentified" twins. Febreze entered the world in September 1995 and, despite only being just over 17 at the moment, has just enjoyed her third eighteenth birthday party in a row down at the Tacker's Ferret.

Febreze, just like her mum, has continued the tradition of disturbing the kegs, but on a more regular basis than her mum and a wider spread of festive occasions, including Easter, Spring Bank, Wimbledon, The Boat race and Friday evenings.

It's not gone unnoticed that should Febreze join the team, she would be T'Go challenge's youngest challenger. It was also felt that Febreze's claim to have Alf Wainwright as her grandad might be helpful in the application. The only problem seems to be that we would have five team members - Me, Beefburger,  Sedge, Febreze and Lenor - since Febreze goes almost evrywhere with her unidentified twin. One will have to go....... maybe we'll just have to wait for a bit of wastage.... and since both Lenor and Febreze are key members of the "security" arm of  ladies darts team,  I for one am not going to try to actively discourage either one.

Thursday, 4 July 2013

Tensions at the Tacker's Ferret

I thought it was all going very well at the ladies' darts match. Me and Beefburger were slotted cosily into one of the little drinking cubicle things to the happy sound of girly laughter and the gentle thud of darts on board, which went on for the best part of an hour, although my estimations of time may be a bit out due to the effects of a few pints of slobberjuice and also becasue I wasn't taking a lot of notice.

We were joined at some point by Sedge. Sedge, it has to be said, is a very damp sort of individual due to some kind of metabolism defect which causes his skin to leak copiously and which gives him a very shiny sort of appearance. Even on the coldest days when the fog blankets the Dale below the village and the trees drip with ice, Sedge stands waiting for his bus sans overcoat and hat, with the sweat  droplets freezing in small icy spots on the pavement below the post with the timetable on it. Sedge is also a very cautious individual. he's been doing the Health and Safety at Work Act since long before the Health and Safety at Work Act was enacted.  He's a very useful sounding board for whenever any kind of lad's adventure  is mooted since he will be sure to point out all of the risks and dangers. Indeed, such are his capabilities in this respect that many more adventures are mooted than could ever be fitted into the most adveturous life available and its not gone unnoticed by most people that as the Tackler's Ferret evening wears on into the deep night, the suggestions for adventures get ever more adventurous and dangerous, thus allowing Sedge to it were....  since he's already pretty shiney.

And so it was that  quite early in the night, I broached the subject of 'T Go Challenge even though I wasn't quite sure what it involved, except to say that it was probably about walking a long way over several days.

And camping - quite a risky occupation according to Sedge.

Sedge hummed a bit, then hahhed. Cupping his chin in his hand and raising an eyebrow he declared that he'd never heard of it, which came as a bit of a surprise.

We discussed T'Go only briefly before Beefburger, keen to get on to more interesting potential jaunts,  went on to suggest using a lorry inner-tube to navigate the River Calder as far as Dewsbury, an idea which Sedge was only in the first stages of considering with a deeply furrowed brow, when the freshly-delivered tray of ham and tongue butties for the ladies darts match was noisily and suddenly upturned in some kind of outburst of darts-related violence. Beefburger's substantial form had to be used to barricade the entrance to our boozing cubicle as tables and drinks and bits of skin, hair and clothing exploded in the main bar. Beefburger managed this feat whilst still nursing , and not spilling, a full pint of dark mild. He has had some practise at this role, though, to be fair, even though most people would consider the tackler's ferret to be a fairly genteel hostelry. Except on ladies' darts nights.  And that night they had the stripper.

Remarkable, really...

My job for the week is to find out more about T'Go Challenge and, in particular, to report on the development, uses and purchase possibilities of tentage. It's a start , anyway.

Tuesday, 25 June 2013

So, What's This T'Go Challenge All About Then?

It were during a bit of a lock-in down at t'Tackler's Ferret when Beefburger's pimple, what he always has on his left cheek, just below the eye socket, began to bleed yet again. He denied having picked it. "Wuzznae me" he said, offering his empty glass for a fill up. He picked a bit of cardboard off his beermat and staunched the flow. For now, anyway.

Some say that Beefburger were raised by otters on the shores of a windswept and stupidly remote Scottish sea loch. His resemblance, though, was more like a very sad alsation, abandoned on a moorland trunk road and waiting in the rescue kennels for the new family and cosy home that never came. He'd be a ginger alsation, then, which may be what's putting people off. And he's Scottish, obviously. What he's doing in the upper corries of Calderdale is a mystery that may never be solved.

He did suggest that my life had settled into a rather cosy routine and that what I really needed was a bit of exercise and something like a target.

Later... I shuffled off home. The night rain slashed down and the wind re-arranged some wheelie bins at the end of our street (bin day tomorrow). It was midnight on midsummer's eve and Beefburger was right. I decided to do some research.

After a session on t’interweb, during which I almost sobered up, I came across an intriguing  idea for a long walk. I forgot to write it down, but it was obviously a Yorkshire idea – something like “T’Go Challenge” A fascinating name, and probably just the thing for me.
I couldn’t find it again on Google the next day.

I must discuss this further with Beefburger. Next Thursday, down at the Tackler’s Ferret. After the ladies’ darts and free ham and tongue barms.