Long before the season draws to a close the Alies begin a twittering and a twitching about their annual day out and bonding session. Once upon a time they used to while away a Saturday bowling at a local cricket club followed by few margaritas in town, or a spot of ten pin bowling, perhaps a leisurely trip down the Lancaster Canal on a barge with a bar.
But over the years the popularity of the Alies “away day” has increased culminating in this year’s peripatetic tour being over subscribed. Shortly after the season ended interest mounted and seats in the mini bus were quickly gobbled up, so much so that Gilly, who was responsible for co coordinating the event in the absence of the Major, who was exploring down under, booked a 24 seater from Travellers Choice.
While Gilly was wrestling with the logistics, the Fitter was burning the midnight oil and clocking up the miles as he planned a route through the Trough of Bowland. Throughout the season strong rumours had circulated that after last year’s tour of pub car parks in the Lake District and with the “I-Spy” book filled in, changes would have to be made.
The Fitter pulled out the Ordnance Survey Maps, charts and sextant, and had a look at Google Earth before setting out to reconnoitre the route. Inns were given the once over, menus studied, precise timings made between inns and a dossier was built up.
When the Press Secretary arrived for Cocktail Hour on the Saturday before the great event, the Fitter flung open his yellow folder to reveal all. But oh dear! The Press Secretary informed him that Gilly had ordered a 24 seat coach. Cue reams of paper being tossed into the air, along with a biro, to the accompaniment of oaths, mainly about Gilly’s ancestry.
Eventually the fitter calmed down, collected all his documents and began to re-plan the route and hoped that the Volvo coach would be able to negotiate the lanes. An air of calm descended as the Fitter rejigged the itinerary, but this was broken with the arrival of Enty who flashed Gilly’s email in front of him, which the Fitter had not received, about the change in travel arrangements, provoking another mini eruption before he returned to his meticulous planning.
The Fitter’s attention to detail was revealed when the coach swept onto the car park of The Wheat Sheaf in a bustling Garstang at 10 45 am. Bacon butties had been ordered in advance, the beer was in first class condition as the group mingled with the morning shoppers, many who were tucking into a hearty breakfast.
The number of Alies making the trip had swelled to 21 which included four relative newcomers, not exactly tour virgins because some had been round the block a few times, but they quickly took on the characteristics of the Alies and by the end of the day they were fully integrated, non more so than the Borough Treasurer who showed his liking for the electric soup on offer throughout.
Having hung up his boots at the end of the season, November Bravo was quickly into his stride aided and abetted by the Tiler. Bankier, son of the Platelayer, flew in from South East Asia, happy to leave behind him the volatility of the Hang Seng, Nikkei, Dow Jones and Shanghai Composite stock markets behind him and immerse himself in the wacky world of the Alies.
After Garstang the coach headed for the next watering hole at The Bayley Arms Hotel in Hurst Green. On the way to this most comfortable of country inns with a superb range of beers served by friendly welcoming staff, the Fitter was passing round menus and note pad for ordering lunch in Waddington, prior to phoning the orders ahead of arrival.
Reluctantly the party had to be wrenched away from embraces of the Bayley Arms and its engraved motto above the bar, “Quant Je Puis.” This had given the Alies plenty of food for thought as they attempted the translation before boarding the coach for a whiz round Stonyhurst College. On the way Enty and the Consultant spotted a kingfisher and the Major recounted tales of his trip to Australia which included a meeting with Pembo, a former Vale skipper and who is much revered by the Alies.
Although the coach only meandered along the long drive at Stonyhurst College before turning round, for those who had only seen photographs of this historic building and its grounds the views were absolutely breathtaking, definitely a place to be revisited. The school’s motto is, “All that I can,” had this been seen before but under another guise?
Lunch was taken at the Lower Duck in a busy Waddington, the perfect spot to recharge batteries, the ideal place for the Major to enjoy one of his trade mark power naps. Gilly, Titanium Jim, Shagpile and the Oil Tycoon, who had managed to grab time off from sorting out the problems in the Gulf of Mexico, found a pool table, their collective discussions even drowning the noise of the vuvuzelas from the world cup game on the television.
Then it was over The Trough to The Fleece at Dolphinholme through some superb scenery, which caused Morse and the Press Secretary to wax lyrical about what gear they would be in on their iron maidens to tackle the hills! History had been a constant theme all day and the visit to The Fleece was most appropriate, the perfect hostelry on a summer’s evening.
Sutty, whose tenure as President was coming to an end, with the help of wife Angie, had arranged for a barbeque back at his house. The steaks, sausages, burgers and chicken were perfectly cooked, the wine cellar well stocked the conversations effervescent and as always thought provoking aide by a snort of some Spanish fire water.
Gradually as the sun began to dip down below the roof line, the Solicitor was spotted wrapped in a blanket. He did assure everyone not to worry as he was not one for complaining or having a whinge, but could Muggy hurry up and organise a lift home!
Others also began to drift off to the bosoms of their families, some went searching for an ample bosom to rest their weary heads on, while the night owls had discovered their second wind and went onto other venues no doubt remembering the words trilled by Elaine Paige in Evita, “where am I going to?” from the song, “Another Suitcase Another Hall.” Next year’s venue has already been discussed and there was talk of another away day before the season kicks off at a recent Cocktail Hour, but the question still remains unanswered, or is it a secret?
