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Let
me take you on a journey, a journey through time and sound;
you’ve left London and entered The Twilight Zone.
It’s settlin’
in for a long and cold winter, you’ve been working hard
all week, takin’ care of business, doing what you gotta
do. Come the weekend you pack up your gear, saddle up them
horses and ride. There’s diving to be done, and we’re
the ones who’re going to be doing it. They said it can’t
be done, its gonna be too cold, there ain’t no diving
north of Sharm ‘round this time of year and its a damn
fool who goes out looking for it. Well we sure showed them
blue-water diving, lilac-car drivin’ schoolgirls.
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convoy started early on Friday morning as Aids’ Big Green
Love Machine headed up to Stoney with all the dive kit you could
want plus backups plus, read it and weep, not one, not two,
but three back-up DPVs. Well, you never know do you.
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Thankfully Aids
also brought along his back-up car battery which we got the
full benefit off in the truck in about the first, oohh, let
me think, five yards of the journey, and Aidan got the benefit
thereafter every time he tried to start his truck. |
The
Stanegarth |
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Catherine,
his passenger, undoubtedly got the benefit of Aidan’s
Secret Fuel Cut-Off Switch too.
“Oohh, I’m so sorry,
I must have forgotten to tank up before we left and I don't
have a back-up fuel canister to help us get away from this
dark, quiet country lane. Let’s huddle together for
warmth and sing brave songs to rouse our spirits. One two
three Kumbayaahh my lord, kumbayaahh..” |
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Aidan,
Throbbing Hunk Of Man Gristle |
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Catherine,
innocent, vulnerable waif |
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We
rocked up at the Dive Inn late in the afternoon, some of us
more worn out from the journey than others. The blokes settled
in the bunk room, Catherine in the Palace Of Pleasure, aka
the girls’ room, or at least that’s how it was
known before our Mel bailed out.
What, Mel bailing out at the last minute,
you must be kidding, that would never happen!! |
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Whose
bunk did this turn out to be? |
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Aids hooked up the DPVs to the national grid and dimmed lights
all the way to Leicester, off we went to the Star, which was
to become our home and the focus of much bacchanalia. It gets
dark early ‘round those parts, and even though it was
still only about 4pm the sun had already set, giving us an excellent
excuse to get the beer in. Those few, those happy few who had
arrived early in the afternoon were well toasted by the time
the main crowd arrived, giving the Johnny Come Lately’s
an op to make lots of lame “orange” jokes. |
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Is
it 'cos I is orange? |
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Pants had
just the one pint though, because he’s a big girl. All
in all the tribe was pretty restrained, and before we left
the pub that night we took one last opportunity to admire
it intact (that is, before Mark “I could kill you with
my thumb” Mills arrived) and to wonder, ominously, what
all those old geezers sitting next to us were humming Elvis
tunes for.
Before the sun set on the tribe a second
time, we would have the answer.. |
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"You're
not on da list, you ain't comin' in!" |
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