Freshers Weekend, Co. Fermanagh Fri13th October 2000
By Emmet McNickle, a fresher...
STEVE'S MA WROTE A CAVING REPORT? (WARM UP FOR THE ANNUAL LUNATIC BINGE)
And so it begins, the commencement of a potentially long and thrilling career of subterranean exploration, white-knuckle action and liver abuse.
All looks promising as we stop opposite the co-op on Lisburn Road to jam
pack the minibus with refreshments. Jizm and I decide not to depend on the
merits of Steve’s "smells like cider, tastes of potatoes" home brew, but to
purchase a few cases of Milwaukee’s (second) best.
A fairly uneventful bus journey brings us to the arsehole of nowhere,
and after a bit of gate-opening and sheep-admiring we offload the gear in
our 4 star accommodation and hit frank eddie's... our goodly innkeeper's.
Steeeeevooooooooo is driving, and knows nothing yet about the torrent of
abuse his mother is in for. Occupying the best seats we start on a Guinness
binge that would make old stevo both jealous and proud... this binge was
only interrupted by the necessity of a short and successful "manhunt". This
hunt was a shadowy forecast of the much more serious search about to
follow... JIZM: Where'd all my fags go??? Aural extraction of cigarettes
ensued around the table as Jiz recovered (almost) all his cunningly hidden
ciggys from hair, ears, noses and other orifices.
We returned to the hotel in merry form. From here the report gets a bit
hazy for a while... I was *ahem* "sleepy" that evening. Johnny constructed a
stripey or three and later did some flourescent bokeing, Igor promised to
share with all our Canadian cavers the very freshest Irish Beef, David
tasted his stout twice, and steeevoooo helped Linda with a bit of late-night
minibus cleaning. The French girls were taught the what turned out to be the
weekends most prevalent anthem... everyone reading this MUST sing along, go on, you know the words: YOU'RE BARRED! YOUVE GOT NO SOCIAL LIFE!
The next morning Saint Deccy along with parrot "the hygienic" fried up
sausages while poor old JD and Igor (and Johnny too I think) like the
martyrs they are went into town for some totally altruistic reason and
missed breakfast (no really they did!).
Then the next group donned gear and hit John Thomas for the caving
extravaganza. I plunged in after our heroic leader Igor... the fact that I
freaked and left the cave had nothing at all to do with Igor going the wrong
way and getting totally and utterly jammed. After a breather and an
encouraging talk from John "McQueen" Duncan (he's my hero! swoon!) I
re-entered the cave and went on, but unfortunately my new friend Connor had
hurt his hand and was unable to join us (much to the disappointment of
Igor). JT was great (even if it was a LITTLE mucky), after the squeeze which
cruelly held fatima fast for about half an hour on the way in AND out. On
the same trip second time round I’m told that Lauren found out she made a
really good smurf.
On the Saturday night Zita and Veronica-one-leg were kind enough to
join us for a spot of armchair caving in frank Eddie's beer cave. Another
night of revelry followed, this time Stevo consuming enough stout to bite
back in defence of his ma, and gonzo found out that the door in fact opens
INWARDS (it only took 4 goes). Hunchbacks all round were enough to set
Johnny (did he even have one, the pussy?) back to his cannibalistic ways,
which scared off even Gaby. Bacon fries were the Scooby snack of the
evening. TJ/IGOR/JD all fought over who ordered the taxi, and another hazy
evening ended this time with the Christy Moore songbook.
On Sunday the lesser spotted Igor made his first aquatic venture in
Whitefather's cave. Contrary to popular belief, gonzo did NOT piss his
wetsuit (aye right). After the most thorough cleaning the place has ever
seen, Aghaloo was abandoned once again with tearful eyes and many a scary
nervous twitch, with most of the "smells-like-cider-tastes-like-potatoes"
also making it out untouched. Until Wednesday, people!!! (oh yeah, and whats that about the annual lunatic binge???)