TOTALLY FACTUAL EXTRACTS FROM THE ELLPUS HOLIDAY DIARY.

Day one sounds great! Good to see ya Ellpus!

Lordy, it's good to see you again!

Best of luck on the morrow.

It's bloody good to be back, Eva and littlek....I've missed the place and can see that standards havent really been raised (see thread "the line" for an example) since I've been away......Marvellous!

Wont have much time to spare for posting over the next couple of weeks, as I am on relief cover at Court due to most of the usual people buggering off on summer holidays. How inconsiderate.

Day two should follow shortly, however.....when matters sexual are looking up a bit.

So there you are, Ellpus! I was wondering what had become of you!


Please continue ......

DAY TWO.........

This morning I am going for a good long stroll along the beach, as the light of my life has decided to take advantage of an essential oils massage, as advertised in the Hotel leaflet. The Masseur comes highly recommended by one of Lady E's jam making club, and is apparently an expert at removing tension from the female body, and "exploring the woman within", whatever that means. She has paid for the full works, which includes all manner of electronic gadgetry, and he is due to call on her at 10am. Personally, I would change my name if I was him, as I wouldnt think that he gets much business using his real name of Dr Everard Thrustpole. Bloody ridiculous....still, he seemed a nice young man when I met him at the door. Massive hands. Smelt of baby oil and carrying a multipack of batteries.
Shame he was booked, really....as I had noticed that the better half had changed into some pretty racey underwear, but alas there was not enough time for any trains and tunnels, due to her appointment.
Toodled off downstairs where, owing to a particularly garlicky Fettucicni last night, I decided to play "Crop dusting".
Now, just for those that do not know about this sport, this is where one surreptitiously farts while passing through a public space, and then monitors the reactions from a quiet spot not far away.
I chose the quite busy Hotel Lobby, and must admit to it being one of my more succesful attempts, with the main contingent of people fanning themselves whilst exiting quickly, and the bemused bellboy being told to get some fresh air spray.

I strolled onto the beach with one eye on the weather, one on the time and the other on a startling sight in the distance.
About two hundred yards away, there was a stranded whale lying on the shoreline, and nobody seemed to have noticed. I looked around at the almost deserted beach, and saw a discarded bucket which I picked up on the run towards the poor creature.
I look in on the Discovery channel from time to time, so I knew that it was very important that I kept the whale wet until the tide came back in, so I filled the bucket and began rubbing the whale with seawater, and made soothing whale whistles in order to keep it calm. The tide was on the way back in, so its ordeal would not be too long.
I was midway through moistening its rather large blowhole, when it turned over and turned out to be a German Nudist called Helga Krupp, who had apparently gone for a swim off the North coast of Germany somewhere, and turned right instead of left, ending up in Dover.
Judging by the tone of her language, she was rather ungrateful towards me and, having regained her strength, decided to swim back to Germany.
My last sight of her, was when she passed over the horizon, followed by two Norwegian whaling vessels. I hope she makes it.

In the mood for a bit of history, I decided to visit Dover Castle, which turned out to be a very interesting place indeed. The original part was built nearly a thousand years ago, and there is a network of tunnels, dug into the chalk underneath, dating from the Napoleonic war. Used as a secret hospital during the war, it was also the place where the highly succesful evacuation of Dunkirk was planned and overseen. Bloody impressive.

Got back to the hotel quite knackered, I can tell you. Just as well, as the good lady was sound asleep and smelling of petunia oil. I didnt even have enough energy to raise a smile, let alone the old chipolata, so I quietly got in beside her and took a quiet nap.

A good day, all in all. I enjoyed my stroll, and Lady E seems to be fully detoxicified and dreaming of funny things, as she has a smile on her face and is making little cooing noises.

Happy days.......... Reculver Tower (near Dover).....part Roman (the bad brickwork nearest to you) dating from about 2000 years ago.




Dover Castle tradesmans entrance.



Dover Castle....view from top, down to town and seafront. Castle built by the Normans...I'm sorry, I didnt catch their surnames, just a bunch of guys called Norman.

DAY THREE.........

Left for Chichester today, which is about 100 miles down the coast. Late leaving the hotel due to an unfortunate incident involving a shoe horn.

As earlier mentioned, we dined at the Thai Restaurant yesterday evening, and I asked for some "surf 'n' turf". They didnt have that on the menu, but I was offered something very similar, called "shark 'n' bark" which was cooked well, but tasted bloody strange. Someone has since told me that it was made up of shark fin and poodle cutlets, but I didnt believe them.

Anyway, whatever it was, it caused the old montezuma's revenge in the stomach regions during the night. I reckon, given the right wind direction, I could have shat through the eye of a needle at a hundred paces without touching the sides.

The female doctor that attended me made up for all my discomfort though, as she was an absolute beauty....perfect in every way.

She was the sort of female that one could slowly strip naked, lay her gently down onto a soft mattress, cover her from head to toe in black pepper, and sneeze all over her for an hour or two.

Anyway, Chichester was bustling from tourists as we arrived, all there for the sailing, I suppose. Whilst there, we intend to visit Fishbourne, a Roman Palace.
Fishbourne Palace was discovered by accident during the digging of a water main trench in 1960. The discovery led to nine seasons of excavations that showed the site had developed from a military base at the time of the Roman invasion in AD43 to a sumptuous Palace by the end of the first century.

Speaking to one of the guides there, he said that he first became really interested in Fishbourne when he researched his surname (Greatorex), and found it to be Roman in origin. He had traced his family tree back to the 1700's, and they were all in the Chichester area. Chances are that his family had connections with the Palace when it was first built, over 2000 years ago.......bloody fascinating.



Fishbourne original Mosaic floor.



One of the worlds very first photographs, Carbon dated to around AD 72.

Lord Ellpus
Oh, Lord, did I need a good laugh this morning to wipe away my angry tears. What a job to learn the workings of your demented mind. I love it!

BTW, did you know that you can make an anagram out of your avatar?
I found "ROLLED PLUS" in honor of your description of your awaking routine.

BBB

Thank you, BBB. Love the anagram, but I prefer Dell Slurpo, if you dont mind. Demented mind? Good common sense, if you ask me.

Anyway....where was I? After we had visited Fishbourne, my good lady took over the driving, as she had a surprise for me. We drove into the countryside, ending up at a pretty little Aerodrome in the middle of nowhere.
As a late Birthday present, she had booked a flying session in a Sopwith Camel bi plane. Now, I was trained in a Sopwith, and it's like riding a bicycle, really.
I always remember the wise words of my Flying Instructor on that first day......"Ellpus" he said "Flying an aeroplane is like making love to a beautiful woman. Make sure you get in her five times a day, get the flaps fully opened, adjust the joystick to the correct position, and take her to heaven and back in twenty minutes.....and if you manage to get your undercarriage fully up as well, just look on that as a bonus.".
That advice has stood me in good stead from that day on, and I've flown quite a few old wrecks in my time, if you get my drift.
Fifteen minutes later, I was soaring into the clouds, looking out for Heinkels out of pure habit.

Quite a marvellous day...............tomorrow.......PORTSMOUTH.

Lord


Even greater anagram! Can anyone else come up with another one?

BBB

Olld Pulser?

Pud L. Rolles

ellpus

Glad to see you again - sorry I missed your little trip!

Good to see you back old boy.
Just remember the only difficult thing about flying a Camel is getting it off the ground...and, of course making a successsful landing.
If all else fails, right turn 'em to death.

Sorry you missed us Margo....we DID wait for half an hour, but didnt see you.

Right, here we go........

DAY FOUR......

The drive to Portsmouth took no time at all. The sun was out and the sea was dotted with all manner of sailing craft as we made our way along the almost deserted coast road. I was feeling rather daring, so I dropped a gear and gunned the accelerator as we hit a long, straight stretch of tarmac. The Bentley roared into life and before I knew it, we were approaching 40 mph. Lady E gave me one of her looks, so I eased back to a modest speed, so as to keep her happy. I was determined to achieve some horizontal delights today, so I didnt want her upset in any way.

"Fluffy" Harris was going to meet us in Portsmouth, and I looked forward to his company. He had retired from the Navy in 1968, and had for some unknown reason, taken up with a Fijian ex lingerie model after his wife divorced him because of the incident with his loose trousers in a London park.

"Fluffy" always had a beautiful woman in tow, despite having a face that looked like a farmer's arse on a frosty morning. He owned a small estate of luxury apartments near Buckingham Palace, but couldnt go near it because of the Court order. Copious amounts of money flooded into his various offshore accounts each month, which he spent on fine wine and even finer women.

He met us in the car park of the "historic dockyard", as we wanted to visit the Mary Rose exhibition.

http://www.maryrose.org/

....which turned out to be bloody fascinating. On the same site, we boarded the HMS Victory (Nelson's flagship at Trafalgar) and HMS Warrior, a Victorian metal hulled warship, that used both sail and steam.

After a good lunch in nearby Southsea, we parted company with "Fluffy" and went for a Siesta in one of his apartments that he owned down by the seafront. Bloody seagulls kept ark ark-ing outside the window so, as I couldnt have a nap, I thought I'd try the old romantic approach in an attempt to alleviate the sexual tension building within my lower regions.

I slipped into the bathroom, quietly stripped down to my long johns (I even took my vest off, in oder to achieve maximum allurement), sprayed myself with Old Spice, and entered the room singing "She" by Charles Aznavour. Unfortunately, the warbling that is required in the middle of the song caused my throat to tighten and I ended up having a coughing fit, whilst Lady E belted me on the back with a firm cushion. I shall try again tomorrow.

Lady E had booked another massage session with one of Everards colleagues who happened to ply his trade in Portsmouth. This particular young man was very popular, especially with foreign ladies apparently, as he could speak several languages. He advertised the fact that he had an expert tongue, and did a roaring trade in the process.
Fluffy came around and picked me up just before "Master Flicker" (Masseur) arrived, and we went off to a Pole dancing club for the evening.

Now.....I've seen Russian dancing with Cossacks and swords....I've seen Hungarian folk dancing, which is bloody impressive, but I have never before witnessed traditional Polish dance. Let me tell you, these Poles could make the wax drip down anyone's candle in ten seconds flat.

Traditional Pole dancing, I have discovered, is an all female thing, and their folk costume does not involve the usage of much material. Out of all the delightful young ladies there, I must say that one called Olga impressed me the most, and I can honestly say that she is the only woman I know that has winked at me, with both eyes open......Marvellous.
Spent most of the evening with a fully rigid todger, which caused some trouserial constriction, but apart from that, we had a bloody good time.

Arrived back at the apartment at 4am, and found Lady E cooing softly once more. Heard a wierd buzzing noise from under the blankets, and found it to be an electrical massage tool that Flicker had obviously left behind. Strange bloody thing.....almost phallic. Switched it off and hit the sack.

Best day so far....for both of us, it would seem. Must fire the old elephant gun soon though, as the pressure is definitely building.......

DAY FIVE...........

Lady E seemed somewhat tired as we toodled along the coast into Dorset. She alternated between short periods of nodding off, and then waking up, during the entire drive. Whilst awake, she had the annoying habit of humming "It's raining men" the whole time. Still, the holiday must be doing her some good, as she looked ten years younger, despite her mussed up hair.

We arrive in Lulworth Cove at around noon, and had a quick wash and brush up in our hotel room before going for a clifftop stroll.
Along the way, we stopped for a paddle in the sea at Durdle Dor, before going to a nice little Pub for a pint of prawns and a half of "Old 'Ard", the local brew.

There was a touring Rugby team in the Pub, and their coach recognised me from my playing days at Eton and Cambridge. He bought me another half, as we chatted about the old days.

I'm not surprised that he recognised me, as I was quite an accomplished player in my day, scoring many a fine "try" against all manner of stiff opposition.
Some people think that Rugger is just a game played by men with odd shaped balls, but there is a lot more to it than that.
The hardest thing to achieve, is to run with the ball, from one end of the pitch to the other, without having one's torso dismembered by the opposing gorillas.
My body swerve was legendary when I was at my peak.....I would feint to my left, then jink to the right and leave a great heap of sweaty bodies in my wake. My reputation grew to the point that I could send an entire opposing pack the wrong way with just a flick of my eyebrows. Then came the injury that finished my playing career.
I was in the midst of a particularly vicious scrum, when some cad from the opposing team reached underneath and grabbed my family jewels, resulting in severe scrotal damage. My left one now hangs four inches lower than the right, which accounts for my strange gait during cold weather.
It was at that moment I decided to stop playing rugby, and take up water colouring.

After an enjoyable lunch, we walked to Tyneham, a coastal village which was evacuated during 1943 (WW2), so that the Navy could practise their artillery aim and bomb the bugger for a month or so, followed by various tank and land force "invasion" exercises, in preparation for D-Day.
The people were given short notice to leave, and the Armed forces still own the land to this day. Everything was left as it was, and there is a disquieting silence which gave me the shivers, yet bought it home just how serious things were back then.

http://www.imagesofdorset.org.uk/Dorset/003/intro.htm


http://www.thedorsetpage.com/locations/Place/T210.htm


Cars and Garages were not achieved in the evening, as Lady E had a migraine...........

OOh Ellpus......oh Olga.......Ellpus......Olga......Ellpus Ellpus Ellpus...."ELLPUS!".....

"ELLPUS!!"

"Wha..?"

I opened one eye, and noticed that the time was 2.03am.

"What?"

"Ellpus, you've had a nocturnal explosion again"

"Sorry dear, it must be the remnants of the Shark 'n' bark"

"No, Ellpus....a forward explosion"

"What?"

"I awoke to find you doing your naughty beagle impersonation on my left leg"

"Really?"

"Yes, really. It's gone everywhere...I put it down to your glandular pressure problem...you must get that seen to"

"Sorry dear, I'll get a cloth"

"Too late for that....it's all over the place. Totally ruined my Dolce and Gabbana negligee"

"What can I say dear, I DO apologize"

"I feel all tense again now....I shall have to book another massage"

"Yes, dear"

Liber indicium