Drum roll please. That human blot Eunuch, his brain like a buzz-saw, has typed up a guest blog. And, perhaps foolishly, I’ve agreed to publish it unabridged. Few people so far have managed such an undertaking – Dad, Big Don, Wrecker, Namibian and Surfy Steve being notable exceptions – yet the winsome Eunuch has not shied. He has triumphed, he has trumpeted, he has trail-blazed. Without further preamble, then, here is his tour de force. (Do leave the poor old horse a comment – it’ll make his day.)
“All good for Friday pm then Eunuch?” said an ecstatic Barnaby at the prospect of my imminent arrival in Hastings for a long weekend. “Well, I’m afraid Dusky isn’t up to much as she has some kind of tropical disease” oh dear, from what I could gather that involved more than a touch of flatulence – poor thing.
Who is Dusky? well she disappeared into the depths of South America for 9 months, ate witchety grubs, went slightly native and then emerged an Amazonian goddess! Only joking, no really it was a backpacking trip and now she will readily admit (after a glass or two of red) that she has succumbed to the charms of East Sussex and a certain gentleman that has more than a penchant for white holdups….ohhh matron.
Talking of ‘Dusky’ this brings me to the topic of the ever expanding repertoire of nicknames that Barnaby has for his cohorts and if you are lucky enough to become one, then you too will acquire a monicker by which you’ll be known – all in the best possible taste of course and out of pure affection. It does make me laugh, so far I know of Fat Paul, Namibian, Boiler, Mystic, Sticky and of course me, Eunuch. One such story that tickled me was of Fat Paul, who incidentally is fat and in Barneys phone book under ‘F’ and not ‘P’. Barnaby and Fat were on tour and fortunate enough to visit the Eiger – the train took the strain and within 5 minutes of reaching the summit or so Fat came over all fatigued and said “oh I’m feeling rather tired, erm think I’m gonna have to have a pie” and who could have blamed him after a 13,025ft climb?
Mountains is something we didn’t climb on this particular weekend although we did take a walk along the clifftops. During our jolly amble I discovered that I’d be meeting the biological creators of Barnaby, yep it was time to meet his parents – who I can assure you are both ‘interesting’ characters. His father is a kind of Ranulph Fiennes crossed with Indiana Jones and mum dispenses strange pills for a living with more than a wild claim to curing you of all your ills, to which I’ll admit I had some….think they are made out of tarantula brains or something similar and no they do not taste like chicken.
As we strolled, Barney extolled the virtues of many a childhood adventure with dad “oh yes we did alot of walking when I was a nipper” although he did mention that these forays into the wild often involved an unplanned water stage and that I should at least bring a pair of waders as it could get more than a little moist.
Moist was certainly the term I’d use for Barneys cheese and tomato sandwiches which he was preparing with particular aplomb on the day we were off exploring with his father “I can never understand why Dad only gives you half a tomato” he said as he handed me a bag of salted hula hoops…”with me, you at least get a whole one” Little do you know, but these sandwiches represent the pinnacle of culinary achievement for our intrepid blogger “I really must have a pasta dish mastered by the time I am forty – I have made a promise to Dusky and myself” To which I said I’d purchase a pasta machine as a gift, so he could make the main component part himself – if he really wants to impress his petite amie, bien sur.
As Barnaby heaved the sandwiches into some Tupperware, I recalled another bizarre sighting from the weekend – a man? with long hair plus moss chops dressed in super tight terracotta colour leggings with a quilted jacket and a peculiar hat on his bonce ala president Lincoln style, dishing out leaflets to shocked members of the public. All I have to say is that you could see the wedding vegetables shrink wrapped into this ridiculous outfit, even Dusky saw this chap to which she exclaimed “oh my gosh what an enormous double VPL he has” you get the idea, one for the fashion police I think….perhaps I should have approached him and said “marvellous getup old boy” trouble is I would have been fighting the giggles for a whole fortnight.
Anyway, I’d better toddle off now and leave you lot to it – there will be more from me as I have an excursion planned to Spain and supposedly I am ‘borrowing’ Dusky for that one….so I will have to be on my best behaviour! ho-hum..