Deja vu

Sun.23.11.08. I am quite confident that if I look back on the notes I made this time last year I would be reading the exact same dialogue, because, it is the ‘homecoming of the annual Keswick old boys trip’. The group had arrived back to Standish around midday, but instead of sinking 10 pints in the ‘Dog and Partridge’ they had 10 in the ‘Globe’. After their last visit to the ‘D and P’ the place suffered a fire that required extensive refurbishment before it could re-open. After only one month after the re-launch the place has closed due to the ‘credit crunch’ followed by the subsequent recession. Back in the Oak the stories emanating from the ‘Anglo Scottish back slapping do’ had also not moved on. ‘The rooms were basic but clean, the food was expensive but was good and bad at the same time, the weather was wonderfully clear sparklingly bright but raining, the pipers were worse than the year before, as were the traditional highland ditties, the England rugby team were annihilated by south Africa, the Scots were not, only one person let the Captain’s side down but no one knew who, they had spent an embarrassing amount of money on bad ale but still managed to get pissed; generally speaking it was as if it were yesterday since they were last there, that may have something to do with habits not changing’. The only slight perceptible difference was that the Captain didn’t eat the evening meal with the group but decided instead to visit the local ‘chippy’: I don’t suppose it had anything to do with him not being granted his usual gratuitous meals from the hotel?

Because of the circumstances, due to the sudden death of Chris’s mother, the group was somewhat subdued, except for Lowtie who seemed to be on ‘speed’, perhaps having recently raided his son’s stash. His high spirits mainly surfaced after most of the Lakes assembly had disbanded, including Chris who had left earlier, still very confused about his present feelings. But John was on top voice drowning out even the melodic warblings of ‘Jon Brindley’ who had just started his first set. Danny, his saltette wife Katie had just arrived together with Jamie with his girlfriend ski instructor with the huge ‘charlies’, all of which became embroiled in the farting contest that was in full flow in the office corner. Lowtie would periodically point the finger at the same time clenching his nose with his other hand. The Preacher smiled as did Cockney Mick both profusely denying the offence. Even comments such as. ‘monkeys smelling their own shit first’ didn’t deter Lowtie from turning his accusing attentions toward Danny. Katie jumped to his rescue claiming that he had never farted before her in his life; she also, had never dropped one as long as she had lived. Jamie plus girlfriend looked bemused not really understanding exactly what was going on so they departed to the other end of the bar. Lowtie fell into further suspicion when the violent odour was only present when he himself was in the group, but as new people called at the bar he deftly deflected allegations nodding toward the innocents. As respite from the ‘fart competition’ Vinnie joined the company, having just returned from Twickenham, attempting to sidetrack the current conversation with reminiscences of ‘G and T’s’ in the car park, curries, pacing himself, early nights, smashing chaps, jumpers for goalposts, Swindon and driving back on the A49, concluding that he couldn’t perceive any foul odours what so ever. Princess Katie, meanwhile was up to her old tricks of flirting with the older men, suggestively posing, thrusting her crotch forward with any excuse to make body contact then finally, fondly inquiring of Andy Lewis that she ‘would fancy the roughness of his beard between her thighs’: certainly the world of ‘Santus’ is a strange place only entered as one would a ‘theme park’, very infrequently.

As Jon Brindley sparked up with the George Formby classic, ‘I’m leaning on the lamp post’ it was the signal for Jo and I to retreat home for dinner.