TOTALLY FACTUAL EXTRACTS FROM THE ELLPUS HOLIDAY DIARY.

Gosh!

This thread made my day yesterday, and it's doing the same again today. Keep it up, Ellpus! (However you want to take that.)

Mirabile dictu. :wink:

Eating meanwhile the last piece of the souvenir from my day trip to the east coast

droll puLsE

Haha You're finally back Spanky. I missed you
and your delightful personality.

The Pole dancing bit should go into the A2K Hall of Fame. Hours later, I'm still laughing.

This whole vacation is working out to be a fine fiddle de dee.

i love this thread...keep it up! it is wonderful!

Ditto. What a laugh!

Where did he go?? More, Ellpus, more of your delightful tongue and eloquent descriptions....

Had any yet? This story will become terribly painful if you don't get lucky soon.

I think our LordE is doing pretty well for being about eighty, by my calculations. He must be particularly handsome in person to have such a vibrant wife...

Heeven


Good eye for a great anagram.

BBB

DAY SIX..............

Day six can only be described as a "Salmon day"......you know, one of those when you seem to spend the entire day swimming up stream, only to get screwed before dying.

Lady E spent the entire morning with a face that looked like a bloodhound sucking a lemon. The hotel had made an exhorbitant charge for the cleaning of the bed, and the small stain to be removed from the ceiling. Not a good start to the day at all.

On top of that, I now had to make a not insignificant detour to the inland town of Dorchester, so that the bloodhound could purchase new night attire. Unfortunately, being a small provincial town, Lady E could not find a Harrods, so had to make do with a blue fluffy number from Marks and Spencers, a store that caters for the dreadful middle classes.

As we drove to Dorchester, she turned towards me and said "Who is Olga?", causing me to almost go up on the kerb.

"I have no idea" I fibbed, rapidly searching through the old grey cells, remembering the Olga's that I have encountered in my life. Answer .....three!
One is an A2K member that I have not had the privilege to know in the physical sense. The second is that alluring creature from the Polish folk dancing night, and the third was a Nanny that we employed during my childhood, who made a man of me.
It all happened so quickly really, and totally unexpected, on my thirteenth birthday. I had just had a bath, and was being briskly towelled down by Nanny Olga, when I said "Oh look, my tinkle's got a bone in it"...........well, there followed a rapid thirty seconds of "How's yer father" and, hey presto, I found out what it was for.

"Then why were you calling out her name when you were rodgering my leg?" enquired her ladyship.

"Buggered if I know.....you know what dreams are like....bloody mystery really" I answered as coolly as possible.

Two hours of silence followed, as we shopped for stainproof nightware. I then took her for lunch, and managed to get the required amount of sherry down her throat so that she became semi human towards me.

During the lunch, she made some further enquiries, and when I gave my answers, she accused me of testiculating.
Now, for those of you that do not speak the Queens English properly, the act of testiculating is when one flaps one's arms about wildly, whilst talking complete and utter bollocks.

Silence reigned once again as we drove from Dorchester down towards Plymouth.

I shall declare day six as not a very good one, and hope that things pick up tomorrow.............

Fun reading, Ellpus!

BBB
An anagram for the Lady E:

Delay.

Now, this can have a political or sexual inference. Which do you choose Lord E?

BBB

DAY SIX (Cont'd)....we drove back to the coast road, and slowly made our way through Somerset and into Devon, arriving in Plymouth at around 6pm.

We were both very tired after the mammoth shopping trip in Dorchester, so after we had booked in to a pretty little seafront hotel, we took a short nap. Lady E had mellowed, and I had the distinct impression that naughties may well be on the menu this evening.

After about an hour, I awoke and got up to look out of the window. The better half was still snoozing when I walked back to the bed and, feeling very loving towards her, I bent down and delicately kiseed her on the lips, whereupon she immediately closed her legs, almost breaking my nose. Maybe I am rushing things..............

We went for a lovely meal at a French/Greek restaurant on a delightful quayside about half a mile away. I had the Boeuf Bourgignon Moussaka, and Lady E had the Mountain Goat Parisienne.

For dessert, I had a most unusual Taramasalata creme brulee, and her ladyship just had a greek coffee, which is basically a french coffee, but one is allowed to smash one's cup when finished.

A quick stroll around the tourist shops, and it was time to go back to the hotel, as the better half wanted an early night.....maybe things were looking up.

After her loveliness had completed her ablutions, I dived into the bathroom, carrying a bag containing my big surprise. You see, she has always had a thing about male ballet dancers, so I had purchased an outfit, and had been practising my pirouette for a week or so before coming away.
I quickly donned the outfit, stuffing my meat and two veg into the very tight hose, which were a brighter pink than I remembered (both the hose AND my bits). I squeezed on the silly little shoes and looked in the mirror. If THIS doesnt do it....nothing will.

I removed the wind up gramophone from the bag, placed the vinyl record onto the turntable and put the needle onto the Nutcracker suite track. As the music commenced, I rushed out of the bathroom and immediately went into a full stretch airial leap across the room in order to gain maximum surprise.
To my dismay, Lady E was fast asleep. Disappointed once again, I got our shoes and left them outside our door for cleaning. When I tried to get back in, I found that the door had clicked behind me and the handle wouldnt turn.
At first I tried knocking gently, but after remembering that the light of my life is in the habit of taking sleeping pills, I began to knock furiously, which produced several people from nearby rooms, wondering what the noise was all about.

In the end, a delicate looking man named Tarquin invited me into his room, so that I could phone reception. He offered me a drink, and I downed it in one. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in his bed and he was lying next to me, smoking a cigarette. Bloody strange........

Re: BBB


Sexual.....definitely sexual.

DAY SEVEN............

I declined the offer of breakfast with Tarquin, and phoned reception for someone to come up and open the door to my room. The Duty Manager arrived and kept a straight face whilst I followed him in my ballet costume down the corridor.

I asked him to be very quiet as he turned the key, and I snuck back past the sleeping Lady E, and changed back into my proper clothes. I then sat on the veranda, waiting for her highness to arise so that we could get on with the day.

I spent my time, reading up on facts about Plymouth. Drake set off on his round the world voyage from here. He also finished his game of bowls before thoroughly shafting the Spanish Armada, in 1588.

The Pilgrim Fathers left for America from just round the corner. With them, they took the secret recipes for burgers and Kentucky fried chicken and it took another 400 years to convince them to let us in on the secret, so that we could once again enjoy those culinary masterpieces in our high streets.

Captain Cook set out from Plymouth on his wondrous adventures down to New Zealand and across to the Pacific Islands, bringing back all manner of new plant and animal life.

I was suddenly aware that the telephone was ringing, so I quietly dashed back into the room and answered it. The girl on reception informed me that I had someone down there who wanted to see me.

I went down to the lobby, and was amazed to find that Reggie Smythe had tracked me down, after speaking to Fluffy Harris in Portsmouth. He was keen to spend the day with us, and had his fourth wife in tow. She was a gorgeous looking thing who I had met once before, in London.
If one looked closely, one could discern that she had a glass eye, and that is how they first met.

The story goes, that Reggie was enjoying a quiet brandy in Langans one evening, when this young lady sat down at a nearby table. During the course of the evening, the lady sneezed violently, dislodging her eye in Reggie's direction.
Reggie, being an excellent cricketer in his day, dived from his seat and grasped the eye before it landed on the dirty floor. They have been inseperable ever since.

I asked her once, why she would choose to pair up with Reggie as, to be fair, he wasnt the best looking man around. To be quite blunt, he has a face like a robber's dog.
In answer to my question, she said that he was the only man who has ever caught her eye.

Reggie and I used to play for the Eton cricket team when we were thirteen or so, and after a long, hot day of fielding, we used to look forward to the refreshing shower before going to the great hall for dinner, followed by evening hymns.
In fact, us boys used to enjoy the post match ablutions so much, that we used to have a competition to see who was longest in the shower. Reggie always used to win by a good two and a half inches, even in winter.

I went back upstairs to tell Lady E that we had visitors. Today looks like it will turn out to be good fun..............................apart from the fact that my bottom felt rather sore.


http://www.cyber-heritage.co.uk/bonnets/barbican.htm

http://www.mayflowersteps.co.uk/

Tell more, tell more..

DAY SEVEN (Cont'd)........

We had arranged to rendevous downstairs for breakfast in fifteen minutes, so Lady E and I rushed through our ablutions before getting properly dressed.
I had dried myself off after my shower and grabbed the tin of talcum in order to dust the nut area, when I noticed that it was not talcum at all.
Penbury had obviously packed my things in haste, as he had placed a tin of athletes foot powder into my wash bag. I thought my groin had smelt a bit peculiar over the past week.....a sort of mix between disinfectant and mothballs.
Still, upon giving the nether regions a good inspection, I can now declare that the old todger is totally fungus free for the first time since I found the kitchen maid scrubbing the scullery floor on her hands and knees. Every cloud has a silver lining, wot?

We arrived on time for breakfast and Reggie introduced her ladyship to his new wife. I had a particularly insignificant kipper, followed by a full english breakfast. Whilst munching, we discussed what we would get up to in Plymouth.
Lady E had to be back by two, as she had booked a massage. In fact she had double booked by mistake, which meant that two masseurs would be arriving at once.....how embarrassing for her.

The two ladies then went off to "powder their noses" and arrived back giggling and rather flushed.
Lady E said that it would be a shame to cancel one of the masseurs, so the lovely Mrs Smythe would join her this afternoon, and suggested that us boys go out and do some fishing for a couple of hours. She knows how much I love to fish, so it was very thoughtful of her.

We then walked into the centre of Plymouth, and headed for the Barbican area.....the oldest part of town. The weather was good and the bloody seagulls were making their usual din and crapping all over the rooftops. Reggie took us to "the Elizabethen House" and we paid good money to go in and have a look round. Why I was doing this, when I had a bloody great Elizabethan pile waiting for me back at Droitwich, no bugger knows! The whole house could fit into my hall quite easily. Never mind.....it's good to see how the dreadful working classes lived in those days.


Elizabethan House, Plymouth.



Great Hall, Droitwich Manor. (see what I mean?)



Before we knew it, the time was 1.30 pm and it was time for the ladies to go for their massage.
We took them back to the hotel and had the manager arrange for the Bentley to be bought round to the front.......WE WERE GOING FISHING!

I drove inland from Plymouth, following the River Tamar along the east bank for about ten miles, until I found a nice, secluded spot.
We unpacked the fishing tackle and decided to split up and have a contest, to see who could catch the biggest Salmon. I was quite confident of winning our bet of £25, as I had been taught to fly fish by one of Britains leading anglers.
I remember what he told me on my first attempt at angling, when I was 16.

He said "Ellpus, fishing is very much like making love to a beautiful woman.........first of all, you must inspect your tackle and clean it if necessary. Carefully pull back your rod cover, and remove any dirt or gunge that may have built up there since it was last used. Make sure the rod is fully extended and that you have plenty of shot in your bag, and under no circumstances must you get over excited when an old trout starts nibbling on your maggot."

That has stood me in good stead all these years, and I have speared a few old trout in my time, if you get my drift.

Anyway, without further ado, I chose a secluded spot and extended the rod. After half an hour of flicking the thing with enthusiasm, I had not achieved anything, so I put it away and got out my fishing tackle. With fly attached, I proceeded to cast without success for the next two hours.
I packed up and went back to the car, only to find Reggie dangling a four pounder......my mind went back to those school showers. £25 up my jumper.......ho hum.

We arrived back at the hotel and met up with the ladies, who were positively glowing. Reggie had booked a table at a German/Mexican Restaurant, so we dressed in formal attire and made our way back into town.

Otto von Ramirez ( the maitre "D" ) met us at the door and showed us to our table. He brought the menus and wine list, and went back to his siesta. Lady E chose the "special" which was wernerschnitzel tortillas, and I decided to try the Chili Saukraut, which I regretted about four hours later, when I was farting for England.

From the wine list, we ordered two bottles of the Caramba Liebfraumilch '89.

We were told that the food would be ready in seven minutes thirty seconds and, sure enough, with ruthless efficiency, it was served at precisely the right time by a waiter wearing lederhosen and a sombrero.

For dessert, we all chose the enchilada strudel.

I bade farewel to Reggie and his exhausted looking wife, and escorted Lady E back to our boudoir.

For some reason......maybe it was the fresh air and the great outdoors......I was extremely aroused, and by the time we got back to our room I was packing the kind of tackle that you would normally expect to find swinging about between the hind legs of a Grand National winner.

Oh yes.........she was going to see some fireworks tonight.................