Freshers Weekend, Co. Fermanagh Fri 13th October 2000

By Emmet McNickle, a fresher...



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???)