Shimla Pinks

29 April 2003 Issue No 15

THE BALT-E-MAIL

Where will this end. We’ve now got 2 ace columnists fighting for pole position. This editions columnist is the Beardie-man himself. His tale begins …………………….

A great day out was had by the nine squarrites who ventured into the big city on Friday 25th April. A big thanks to the yupmeister who again brought his organisational skills to the fore and to Michael for organising the itinerary and booking the venues.

Notably absent were Dave Gater who was apparently doing battle with some great white stickleback up neck end pool, Spike who was suffering from jelly belly even foregoing the breakfast bacon butties, midweek Tone who doesn’t venture midweek, and Craig who’s still weighing it up.

It all began with a dash to the door at five to twelve, a dash home and a squarry to the Station to catch the 1246.

Mr Branson did the business with one of his Virgins coming off the bend into the Station at 1247. Forty minutes later and we were there on Platform 13¾ at Manchester Picadilly, only now we were eight. John Commins squarite was nowhere to be seen, had he fallen asleep, was he to wake up in Aberdeen without a sporran. We were forced to venture forth but thanks to the technology of the mobile phone we found that in his excitement he had jumped ship early and was champing at the bit on the footway outside. (I was reliably informed by an overenthusiastic Dave Stubbs, once a trained tarmacer, over and over again that it was all York stone, ‘you don’t see that in Stoke you know’)

We caught the free bus into the heart of the big city and were led into a huge Wetherspoons, ‘The moon under the water’, at least five times larger than the one in Stafford. This was stated on the itinerary but this was strongly disputed by Keith Jackson who had served his apprenticeship in the weights and measures department of the ST1 club. The first to circum to the effects of the Abbots was Keith Phillips. Upon his return from the upstairs loo he was convinced that he had looked into a large room, which indeed would have made it five times bigger than the one in Stafford.

A debate followed as to whether the wall on the top of the balcony was in fact a ceiling thus reinforcing Keith Phillips’s argument that the room did exist. Keith Jackson investigated and it was concluded that it was a figment of his imagination. (We were already aware of his imaginary friends). We troughed and aled for two hours and went onto the next venue.

‘Uncle Toms Chop House’ was an interesting choice being a refurbished public convenience complete with its original Minton tiled walls. We were treated to the delights of waitress service by a gorgeous little Spanish tart with a lovely arse. John Commins was in for a further treat as he went to the basement bog. He was just letting it all hang out when bursting out of trap one came a blond haired lady. She apologised but said that she hadn’t caught sight of anything. Don’t let it play on your mind John, they say the best things come in small packages. Conversation about the future Oktober fest was high on the agenda and discussions of future outings ranged from France, Italy, Barcelona, Singapore, Bancock, South Africa to Australia. Whatever happened to Llandudno? Then behold what was I seeing, the yupmeister had sneaked in a glass of John Smiths Extra Smooth. Had he finally seen the light? We have the photo to prove it if Michael ever learns how to send it from his mobile phone to a computer. Students eh! It was nearing six and time to leave for the main event.

This was a classy little establishment, the ‘Shimla Pink’ with proper tables and walls that changed colour. We were quickly shown to a table out of the way at the back whilst the pretty people were displayed in the window seats. The red wine and ale flowed with Keith Jackson receiving a larger than the average Budweisser, Dave Stubbs was disappointed at the size of his. The curries arrived followed by more ale and red wine. There was a beautiful long blond haired waitress serving another table, which caught Dave Stubbs’s attention so much, that she twice bolted for cover into the boiler room to avoid his lecherous gaze. Keith Phillips was equally shunned as he tried to impress our waitress with his banter. Dave Stubbs made an equal arse of himself by ridiculing a chap who happened to be on his own, ably abetted by Richie who said that if I were him I’d order two meals and take one home in a doggy bag when I left. After all you don’t want to look like Billy no mates. He was then joined by a very pretty young lady who was all over him all night. Throughout the curry something else started to change colour as well as the walls. It was Dave Carlidges white shirt, which gradually was becoming a speckled shade of yellow. Michael was cringing throughout the meal regretting taking us to one of his regular establishments. It was now around eight and time to make a move but the yupmeister was proving reluctant to leave, as he appeared to be struggling to finish his red wine. Was the writing starting to appear on the wall or was it those bloody coloured lights.

We ventured onward towards the Station making our final watering hole yet another Wetherspoons about the size as the one in Stafford. It was my round and offered Yup the choice of beers to which he replied J20 orange and passion fruit. The pub fell in silence as his reputation has preceded him. He was gone, he was beaten. It must have been the John Smiths Extra Smooth he sneaked in before the Curry. Our mentor and leader has fallen claiming that it was the first time in 30 years that he hasn’t finished off a curry night with a pint. If he’d tried the cream flow before it may have been a different story.

We headed for the station followed by the J20 Kid who was haunched over with a rather shameful and sad expression. Were they cow eyes or was it the effects of the John Smiths Extra Smooth. We arrived at platform 5 and the gleaming vestal heading for Euston was awaiting. We bolted into the first carriage only to find that the next one was full of tarts. Still we stood our ground anyway or sat. The J20 kid then started a bout of hiccups, which was only to subside as we were nearing home. On the journey we were continually teased by two 15 year old bare bellied tarts who showed the top of their knickers above their low cut jeans. Sorry can’t type any slower. They were last seen leaving the station at Macclesfield closely followed by Mr ‘I’ve still got it’ Jackson.

We finally arrived back all the better for the experience. Everything had gone like clockwork in fact it couldn’t have gone any smoother.

Arriba! Arriba! Don your sombreros mouchachos it’s Mexican time. As a slight deviation from the norm were going down Mexico way to a little place in Stone of which I don’t know the name yet. Transport from Stoke to be arranged by mini bus or taxis dependant on numbers. Due to the bank holiday week the date has been moved forward to Thursday 22nd May. For squarries making their own way there, meet in Wetherspoons at 6.30 (the one that’s a fifth the size of the one in Manchester).

It’s as well I get the chance to edit these submissions, for instance, removing the ‘g’ from commings, wherever the name is mentioned, etc etc.

To those of us who stayed over in Bridgenorth, I’m sure you’ll agree that an excellent tandoori was had by all. Thanks go to Rob B and Mark S for organising the trip. Trains, boats, walking, real ales, accommodation and a curry. mmmmh. A little dicky bird tells me that Richie may venture forth on a future walk!?

Thanks again to Michael for organising the Mancurian curry nite out. The challenge is now on to find the cheapest curry nite out to help balance the books (no, its not all back to yup’s house!). All sensible suggestions to me please.