The Fearsome Foursome returns! Remember us? Well, we’re back.
In case you don’t know, that’s me, him#1, him#2, and him#3. Though you can’t see me cos I’m sort of behind the camera. Best place for me really. Heh heh.
Assembling earlyish last Tuesday morn for a little jaunt out into the wilds of the Northamptonshire countryside. Nene Valley area to be precise. Irchester Country Park to be even more precise. And other places in the general area.
Day starts bright and sunny. All’s going swimmingly well. Vroom vroom, whizzing along to our intended destination.
Until we have to stop at some shop or other so him#1 can get himself a new hat. Cos he reckons the one he’s wearing makes him look silly. Personally I don’t have a problem with him looking like a plonker. I’m not fussy. I’ll mix with all sorts.
So he gets himself a new hat… and gives his old one to him#3, who’d strangely come without one. Cos him#1’s generous like that. Ahem. So now we have him#3 looking like a plonker instead. Well, not instead… as well. Cos him#1 still looks like a plonker. Obviously not the hat that was doing it after all. Must be something about him in himself sorta thing. A sort of plonkerishness about him.
In fact, if he’d asked me I could have told him that. And saved him some money into the bargain. Just as well he didn’t ask me then really.
And naturally, having had to stop to satisfy the vanity of him#1, we grab ourselves some snacky type things to help keep us going until we can find some sort of coffee type place. First rule of jaunts… always look after the inner man. Particularly when its my inner man.
Why Irchester Country Park do I hear you ask? Well, probably not, but its a question worth posing… for if it isn’t posed then I can’t answer it. And then there won’t be a post, will there? Er… not this one at least.
Y’see, when mate and I had our little jaunt into Rushden last week and were accosted by that lady at St Mary’s Church who clearly believed our lives wouldn’t be complete unless we knew the entire history of the structure from start to finish, she happened to mention that the building was constructed of limestone and ironstone.
Like quite a few of the other old buildings in the town I suspect.
Quarried locally in fact. At a now disused quarry located in… yep, you’ve guessed it! Irchester Country Park.
Well, we needed no further encouragement. Clearly we’re gonna have to visit this place and see what goodies await our viewfinders.
And cos we’re feeling really guilty about not having dragged t’other mate along to Rushden we rope him in as well.
Actually, I wasn’t. Feeling guilty that is. But I’m not gonna tell him that. Working on the theory that he might feel guilty about attacking me with lumps of wood and stuff all the time if I can kid him that I actually have feelings. Heh heh.
Then of course there’s t’other other mate (that’ll be him#3). He just has to come along to keep us all in order… and stop us from doing something really evil to each other as well. And wear him#1’s silly cast-offs of course. With a bit of persuading from the rest of us (“No, honest, you look fine in that hat. It really suits you. Doesn’t look silly at all” [cough splutter]).
We’d also wanted to
con encourage him into buying another camera. But he’d disappeared somewhere for a sneaky fag. Just as well really else we prob’ly would have spent all his money for him. Crafty sod.
So there we are (eventually). The Fearsome Foursome at Irchester Country Park.
First port of call has to be that quarry of course, doesn’t it? The thing has a sort of wooden barrier around a lot of it, and him#2 reckons he’s seen some signs proclaiming the dangers of the place and not to go down there.
Well, I didn’t see any signs. They don’t call me Nelson for nothing y’know. Actually they don’t call me Nelson at all but that’s neither here nor there. And there’s a coupla pathways (quite steep pathways I have to say) leading down. So that’s ok, innit?
Down we go then, scrambling and sliding all the way. And naturally one or more of us are waiting at either top or bottom, camera at ready, just in case any others of us should by chance happen to fall and thereby provide a wonderful photo opportunity.
Came close a couple of times, but didn’t really happen. Shame.
So finally congregating at the bottom, we start exploring. Fascinating place it is, and we’re scrambling all over it. Bit muddy here and there, but hell, what’s a bit of mud every now and then.
And loadsa pics get taken! We just can’t seem to get enough of it.
Eventually though time comes to think about moving elsewhere (and with thoughts of coffee lurking in the back of our minds) so we decide to try and tackle the task of getting out.
We hadn’t actually considered that little detail when we’d made our descent. Not as such. Was sort of overlooked somehow. None of us are terribly well up on that “thinking ahead” lark. Just as well we’re not into mountain climbing or something really. Or we’d prob’ly still be stuck up one!
Coming down into the quarry was slightly hazardous (the sides are real steep). Getting out proved even more of a struggle.
We finally managed it, but not before him#1 had decided to use me as a ladder! Bloody cheek!
There was me, struggling up the side, him#1 to the rear, when I get a strange sort of unsettling feeling. A strange sort of resistance to further progress. A sort of unbalancing type feeling. As though I’m being dragged back somehow, and about to actually fall backwards. Ooo-er.
Him#1 the toerag is maliciously tugging on my backpack, determined to make me fall. Well, I ain’t having none of that!
So what if I just happened to try the same stunt on him earlier on? That’s nowt to do with it. And anyway, the circumstances were totally different. Then it had seemed the right thing to do. Mainly cos it was me doing the pulling. Not my fault if I couldn’t resist the temptation, was it? What with his backpack there, just in hand’s reach sorta thing. It was simply asking to be yanked. Especially as we were going up a steep and quite uneven incline.
As I said, it just seemed the right thing to do. Then.
Dive straight to the ground then, flat on my face. Practically hugging the ground in fact and scrabbling desperately around to grab hold of whatever roots and stuff I can find, of which there were precious few.
Now you have to bear in mind that this little episode occurred just short of the top of the quarry edge. The steepest bit in fact. Fairly slippery, lots of loose earth, and with no sensible hand- or footholds to speak off. It’d be easy enough to slip and fall backwards anyway, without having some bastard trying to pull you back. Hence my hugging the ground as though its a lifesaver. Which it very probably was.
So what does him#1 do then? Only uses me as a sodding ladder, scrambling all over me so he can get to the top himself!
Mates? Pah. Who bloody needs ’em?
Unfortunately him#2 and him#3 were still recovering from the ascent themselves so hadn’t managed to gather any photographic evidence of him#1’s blatant assault on me. Typical of my luck, that.
Well, having all returned to the surface relatively safe and sound (though him#1 seemed to have developed a curious limp; serves him bloody right; or maybe it was just his Igor persona coming to the fore) we almost immediately start thinking in terms of coffee.
But not before noticing that as we were leaving a rockfall started at the other side. Just above where we’d been somewhat earlier. That’d be the side where the actual quarrying seemed to have been done. Not the slopey side by which we’d entered and exited.
Ok. Not a huge rockfall. But get a lump of that stone stuff land on your head, or smack into your legs, and I shouldn’t imagine it’d be very pleasant. Not enjoyable at all. Unless it happens to someone else of course. Preferably so-called “mates”! Then it’d just be really funny and worth a pic or two.
Coffee then. And, following our noses so to speak, that’s where we head. Looking forward to it more and more with every step along the way.
Pity then that when we finally had our mugs (er, paper cups) of coffee in hand it tasted bloody foul. Strong suspicion it was ground coffee, and it was ‘orrible! And made with that stupid semi-skimmed milk as well I don’t doubt. I s’pose we should have guessed…
And the day started to turn a bit grey with a few drops of wet stuff in the air (either that or one… or more… of my three compatriots were secretly spitting at me; wouldn’t put it past ’em) so we decided we’d best make a move.
To our next destination in fact. About which I’ll probably ramble on a bit in another post. Cos that’s enough for now.
Ooh… nearly forgot to say; all the pics from this little escapade are here on Flickr.