Tag Archives: adventure

a little story

jus remembered.
when me and a friend pedalled to Felixstowe n back from Bedford, we camped on the beach inbetween the shore and the busiest container port in England.
we popped into the same beach front pub each day for a drink n to charge the mobile phone.
so we got chatting with the barman, he was amazed at our bike ride and told us of how he’d been in the army, was in the fire reserves etc and envied us our lil adventure.
on the second day he warned us.
“there’s an inland storm coming tonight, thunder n lighting.
it’s gonna be rough out there, maybe you should head back before it gets here.
i wouldn’ wanna be out in it and i’ve been in the blah blah blah”
he said something like that.
me n my mate, we looked at each other, half grinning probably.
well the barman went back to his duties and we supped up.
so there’s gonna be a storm 🙂 shit we are in for it.
how much weed have we got?
that much?
damn, we smoke too fast, let’s find a local…..
so we found a local, he’ll be back in an hour., then to the free water tap to refill the bottles.
we went back to the tent, made sure nothing was missing, fried some bacon n noodles with the Hexi stuff, talking about the incoming storm, were we gonna leave early?
“Fuck that!
we are gonna weather it and walk in the pub tomorrow morning with a grin on our faces!”

Yeah man!! let’s make a spliff.

adventures aren’t meant to be easy, and when i want one i always seem to get one.
(do you remember my poem of epic length about being wrongly arrested and having to hitch hike home?)

so we got stoned on the beach, met up with the local for some more (just incase, we’ve still got to get home yet.) and went crab fishing.
that evening we went to the old burnt pier, the wind was picking up wickedly as we played just meters above the frothy sea.
well, to be honest i’m a scaredy cat but it was cool to slowly walk the old black bare skeleton and hop its limbs.

the wind and rain and black sky made us hurry back to our tents a few hundred meters away.
all that separated us from the sea were some partial mounds that stretch lazily, intermittently along the beach. on the other side of our tent is the port of Felixtowe, a noisy never ending entity.
we made sure our tent was secure, our bikes out of the way. we made sure every thing was comfy and that we had a hot drink n smoke.
the thunder was growing, it felt different because we weren’t inland, it was magical.
especially when the lightning started.
we tried to stay outside for as long as possible, it was beautiful watching the lightning hit somewhere over Ipswich maybe 20miles away upriver. but it was steadily coming closer. 🙂
“well here it comes, like soldier boy said.”

we were loving it. our own true adventure, a hundred miles from home with only ourselves to rely on.
to be honest once it got serious, there was nothing we could do inside the tent so we jus laughed, joined in with the thunder, trying to hear each other above it, watching the blanket lightning paint shapes on the tent.
i’d only used the tent once before during lightning, by Elstow, an ancient village, so i knew that it would be strong. but how strong?
it seemed to hold up as long as we didn’t touch the sides 🙂 the tent was making some crazy shapes helped by the gale storm winds.
it felt like ghost cattle were stampeding over us for hours, buffeting the tent incessantly.
we took it in turns to occasionally re-peg the tent, we were losing pegs into the grassy sand so we started using our cutlery etc.
we were soaking wet, everything was soaking wet. luckily we’d ‘russian dolled’ our spare socks i think because they were dry later on.
we weathered the storm. the world was getting lighter. all that shivering makes me need a piss break. on top of the sea defence, i looked out onto the North Sea and watched dawn rise as she does every morn on the east coast.
we made noodles for breakfast, or was it tinned tomatoes?
anyway. we couldn’t wait for the pub to open so we went to a cafe to warm up, i’m sure we looked crazy hehehe.
the pub opened a little later to serve breakfast and we popped in for a quick one, the barman could see our wet selves, our bikes outside, overladen with wet intrepid explorer stuff.
his eyes said a million things that he couldn’t voice, we smiled, supped up, made a joint for the journey and set off for home.
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36. Once upon a rhyme, a long rhyme ago…

i don’t remember any genie sitting next to me
but he gave me what i wanted. yeah, times three
because i wanted an adventure to stop me being bored
so be careful what you wish for as the genie brought the law
i had an outstanding warrant against my name
well, that’s what they reckon but for once i wasn’t to blame
they took me to the station without reading me my rights
then chucked me in a cell, where i was to spend the night.
i woke at half five with the light up on the wall
craving a cigarette and a ‘phone call
but still my journey wasn’t yet done
i felt like i’d been kidnapped and we were on the run
’cause they put me on a bus with my own private cabin
nothing spectacular, just a Group4 wagon.
i’d never been in a sweatbox before and
it was kinda scary when they close the door.
Mob Mentality?
maybe, who knows?
i could see the outside and my confidence rose!
so i scribbled my name on the windows and door
yea, i’d lost all respect for The Law.
i was dropped off in Ppeterboro’
magistrate cells
where yet again, my confidence fell
but the stop was a short one, little did i know
that i would be put in another wagon ‘n’ back on the road.
i asked a screw if he could tell me the time
let’s call it half ten for the purpose of this rhyme
we soon (ha) reached Grantham, south lincolnshire
at five past one where it became all too clear
i would have to wait an hour while lunchtime was ‘ere.
i felt like the Hurricane, from the old Dylan song
he was prob’ly innocent as-well, & made to feel wronged.
anyway, lunch had finished so they sent me my brief
at least he was Duty and that meant free
but nothing’s been free in my lil life and
the words he did tell me; they cut like a knife
’cause nothing’s been free for this little hero
my chance to get home was near to zero
so i went in the courtroom and told them this story but
left out the Hurricane because that woulda been boring.
i pleaded my case tho’ they didn’t seem to care
they said i could Go after i “sign here”.
but where could i go with no coinage in sight?
then i remembered my smoke and found a light
the coppers were stupid, i had it on me all of the night
and all of the day, so now i had to find a way
to get on home soil, my legs they toiled
with long quick strides, my thumb out by my side
hoping for a ride
putting one foot in front of the other
one car passes, then another
(red lorry yellow lorry red lorry yellow lorry
repeat after me)
it was such a hot day on the dual carriageway.
no water to drink but plenny of time to think
the snake was long, seven miles (i wish it was only 7)
this was becoming a marathon trial.
then i spied a lorry in a layby
twenny-two wheels and none of them moving
i start to jog, before i lose him
i guess you heard of the gingerbread man
well that was me, man, runnin’ as fast as i can
i knock his door and look up to his mirror
i s’pose he sees a funny figure
my luck got better and he tells me to jump in
which i do with an almighty grin.
on the move we’re moving swiftly
the closest he can drop me is in Alconbury
that’s not too bad, but it’s still not the Black Cat
he offers his ‘phone, i oblige and call the boss
to say “don’t worry, i aint lost”
the driver Paul, yeah, he’s quite cool
he’s on his way to the Isle o Grain
more accurately Thamesford, then he’s going Bedford.
which sounds quite good but you gotta be careful
nowadays it’s easy to go missing without a trace.
he talks of 3M where he’s gonna spend the night
i tell him i work there, just on the right
he can drop me there, if i choose
what the hell, what have i got to lose?