FARTS ACROSS THE OCEAN
FART ONE: FARTS IN BEANTOWN
SATURDAY 07.10.95
This day would go down in history as Saturday 07.10.95. For many people it would be a day just like any other but, for the Four Farties, this was the day on which they would boldly fart where they had never farted before. Well, as bold as it’s possible to go anywhere at 05:00 on an autumn morning in Olde Eng-er-land.
In the thrusting, throbbing hi-tech parish that is Reading, a thrusting, throbbing and hi-tech Clive, Joy and Linda caught the 07:45 RailAir coach from the railway station and made themselves majorly comf on the back seats. Less than a very few people joined them on their epic, buttock battering journey to Heathrow Airport.
Meanwhile, in the exotic environs of London, Trevor dragged himself up. He then decided to dress casually instead. His grande baggage avec castors had spent the night in the bath as there was no room for it in his bedsit and much noise occurred as he negotiated two flights of stairs with it. The stillness of East Acton was disturbed by the rhythmic squeaking of Trev’s castors as he made his way to the bus stop. Much hilarity was experienced by the driver of the 72 bus as Trev tried to toss his load aboard. The bus took him to Hammersmith where he took the Piccadilly Line to Heathrow Terminal 4. So downhearted had the ginger fellow been at work because of ‘Frosty Flaps’, his boss from hell, that it was only as the tube train sped through South Ealing that the notion that he was going on holiday finally sank in.
Work was on the minds of Joy and Clive as they sat sitting at the back of the coach discussing Joy’s financial machinations. Upon arriving at Heathrow Joy became a plane spotter. “There’s a plane… there’s another one… OOH, look, there are lots of them!” Joy, very quickly, became bored of this latest hobby.
They eventually arrived at Terminal 4 and chose a trolley each. This made it much easier to move the heavy bags which were as heavy as very heavy things bursting at the seams with clean under-ware and spare trousers. Clive went off in search of Trev and, whilst he was gone, Joy popped into WH Smiths to buy a newspaper. Whilst there she couldn’t help but do some other shopping as well. Linda remained with the luggage looking pensive.
Clive duly spotted Ginger Fart and, with the girls in tow, tried to impress him with their formation trolley display. After queuing up and checking in they nervously waved goodbye to their luggage and laughed at their amusing passport photos. Clive’s seemed to generate the most titters.
Boarding passes in hands we entered the world of Duty Free shopping but only after our hand luggage had been X-Ray’d and Clive had been searched. It must have been something to do with that passport photo.
So much time and so little to do. In need of refreshing we sought out refreshments and found an almost underwhelming choice of warm teas and overpriced snacks. Trev got a black spoon handed to him handle first and we pondered the joys of ‘fast food’ and travel. Feeling a bit perkier we made out way towards Gate 1. Linda did some shopping along the way whilst her colleagues were a tad lazy and used the moving walkway because, well, because it was there really.
In the queue to board we noticed that everyone else looked rather bored and miserable. Were we the only people glad to be going away? Yep. At the boarding gate a very nice young chap pointed out that Joy hadn’t signed her passport but agreed to let her leave the country anyway. We made our way along the tunnel to our British Airways Boeing 747 whilst doing the Conga and singing “we’re on our way to Bos.Ton…”
Pausing under a spotlight in the ceiling Linda asked Scotty to “beam me up”. Scotty was obviously busy asking Jim for “more thrust” so the entered the plane in the conventional way. There was heft chaos as everyone located their seats and stowed their luggage in the “especially provided lockers”.
Despite Trev’s assurances from Samson, the bookings agent in the travel centre at BBC TV Centre, the Farties were NOT seated together. We were split into two pairs and occupied the centre two seats of the middle row, several rows apart. Clive and Linda and then Trev and Joy were paired off. We were all pissed off.
The safety video was very reassuring and it became apparent that the ’emergency exits’ were here, here and here. Orange juice was handed out before take off no doubt to prevent any outbreaks of scurvy.
10:45
TAKE OFF!
The steward had made sure that everyone was strapped in and the pilot informed everyone that the plane would be flying over the Scilly Isles thence towards Newfoundland. Finally in the air the passenger were given packets containing ‘sockettes’, an eye mask, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a blanket and earphones. Linda suffered her first embarrassment of the day when she put her earphones on inside out… “like old people do” said the steward. Oh dear.
ALCOHOL! In fact the cabin crew seemed to spend all their time delivering food and drink then collecting the empties. “When they’ve got their mouths full they can’t complain” quoted an anonymous source.
The film ‘First Knight’ was shown during which dinner was served followed by and totally unconnected with, some turbulence. Linda found both enjoyable but Trevor was annoyed because his ‘in flight entertainment’ didn’t work so he couldn’t listen to the film. That’s to say, he would have been annoyed if he hadn’t been so merry on wine, two Southern Comforts and the altitude.
Linda and Clive turned to wave at their colleagues from time to time. Using complicated sign language Trev indicated that he was pissed.
11:00
We experienced a spot of time-travel as we put our watches back to 06.00 Boston time. During this procedure Joy managed to throw her drink over Trev but insisted that it was an accident. Linda decided to use the ‘aft comfort facility’ (aka the bog) only to find a very long queue. She passed the time looking out of the window. The clouds were very fluffy. The bog was very small.
The smooth talking stewards continued to ply us with more drinks, ice cream, hot towels, afternoon tea, scones, sandwiches and lemon scented wipes. After all this time some of the Farties were very pissed indeed. (Trev: I think what Linda meant to say here was that Joy and myself were very pissed indeed!). They then hit us with the paperwork. We waded through declarations and visa wavers. Some people had to have two go’s as they couldn’t quite grasp the really, rather explicit instructions. (Linda: why don’t you just say LINDA got it wrong Trev?!) As a reward everyone got a boiled sweet:
Joy: “what are these for?”
Trev: “to stop your ears from popping”
Joy: “oh… won’t that make my ears sticky?”
Eventually we landed at Boston’s Logan Airport and, after the disorganised chaos that was disembarkation, we queued up at ‘Immigration and Customs’ where some penetrating and intrusive questions were asked: “How do you support yourself?” (Trev wanted to say “with a surgical truss”); “Is this your boyfriend?” (Clive wanted to say “no he’s not”); “Are they your friends?” (Linda wanted to say “they would be if I liked them”) and “Is that your idea of a fashionable outfit?”. OK so that last one wasn’t actually asked but you get the idea. The officious man did actually ask us if we worked together to which Joy replied “no, but we play together”. We laughed. He didn’t.
There was a terrible tangle of trolleys around the luggage carousel before we were able to set foot upon US soil to search for transport to our hotel. The taxi we eventually procured was driven by a silent but surly character who wouldn’t talk to us, only to his walkie-talkie. Much palaver ensued regarding the fare and no tip was forthcoming unless you count “try being a bit friendlier”.
We arrived at the Midtown Hotel which had, worryingly, been described in the brochure as “nondescript”. We four made a fearful sight as we descended with our luggage upon the reception, sorry, ‘the front-desk’… when in America etc… Much ballyhoo and brew-ha-ha occurred as we checked in and we experienced our first language difficulties. Silly us for assuming that Americans still spoke English. It appeared that since they were four of us, two lads and two lasses then we must, naturally, be two couples. It took us a while to get this across.
Kevin The Porter took our luggage to our rooms with the aid of a JCB. Naturally he packed the bags required first at the bottom. The girls dismissed him without a tip leaving the boys to do the necessary.
15:00
After a period of ‘rest and relief’ we reconvened in the lobby. We set orf to explore Boston pausing outside the hotel whilst Joy returned to her room for some forgotten items. A tour bus stopped and waited for us to get on. “We’re just waiting for Joy!”. The bus pulled away with the occupants no doubt hoping that we found some soon. Trev was bewildered: “We’re somewhere else…” he kept muttering.
Together again we set off in search of adventure, excitement and groovy things. It was no time at all before we felt tired and a bit lost. Suddenly a blue tourist bus appeared and we did what we should have done in the first place: we got on. We spent a couple of happy hours in the company of the very friendly driver but some awfully obnoxious kids. We saw all the major sites of the city and made mental notes to visit various bars and pastry shops as well as the aforementioned places of interest. We passed the ‘Cheers’ bar but were advised not to bother queuing up as the inside was nothing like the interior of the bar seen on tv which was, of course, a set. We learnt that the drivers in Boston like to lean on their horns a lot as they believe that this will, eventually, make all the other cars disappear..
As per it was not long before our thoughts turned to food. We had seen many eateries from the trolleybus but were unable to find any which was a bit frustrating. We settled for a ‘cheap ‘n’ cheerful’ fast food outlet in a shopping mall. Trev and Clive went for some Indian cuisine whilst Joy had something phallic looking. Linda chose some traditional Scottish cuisine (McDonalds) but found the standard of service was well below barely adequate.
We headed back to the hotel via getting lost in the park. On a corner we passed a lone Hari Khrisna and joined in with his chant: “Hari Hari, Hari Chrisna, Hari Enfield, Hari Carpenter” etc. Trev’s natural homing instinct led them back to the hotel. Strange but he doesn’t look pigeon-toed. We paused at the shop next door to the hotel to buy essentials (crisps, sweets, lemonade, gum, biscuits etc). Trev was convinced there was no such thing as “sugar free” in the USA.
Back at the hotel we enquired at the hotel as to the whereabouts of the bar. Sadly there wasn’t one. A pool, sauna, hairdressers, yes, but no bar. Trev, Joy and Clive “take five” to freshen up and pop out for a bevy whilst Linda, who was ‘cream-crackered’, prepared for bed. Poor ol’ dear eh?
On the way to the bar Trev saw someone wearing a t-shirt with “Fuck Miami” emblazoned across the back. Once in the bar he proceeded to tell his chums about this item of attire. “What’s an ‘ami’?” asked Joy.
The bar had a definite air of ‘baseball’ about it. We had, in fact, arrived at the start of the World Series. Trev was at a loss to understand why the event was called World Series when it seemed only America took part. The others tutted.
And so endeth the first day.
SUNDAY 08.10.95
Joy got up in the night and surprised herself when she saw her reflection walking towards her in a full-length mirror.
Clive and Trev were woken by a manic, evangelist preacher as the timed radio turned onto what had previously been a classical music station.
Trevor then began the day with bowel trauma.
Trev’s bowl movement and plans for the day were discussed in the lobby. Our first thoughts were BREAKFAST. We had all seen ‘The Pour House’ advertised on the tourist channel on tv. It sounded somewhat inviting and cheap so off we strolled to Boyston Street where it resided. We had soon lost our bearings but a nice man in a supermarket helped us to find them. We soon found the dimly lit but homely ‘Pour House’ and found the menu was all the advert promised it to be.
Clive was formally voted in as milk-monitor with a large majority. These things have to be done properly. Trev helped Joy load her ‘panoramic’ camera. “You’ll need a panoramic picture of your breakfast to get it all in” noted Clive. The breakfasts were indeed so large that we thought they’d last us through to, well, at least 11.30. “Bottomless” coffee cups were the order of the day.
Feeling well and truly filled we set orf towards Trinity Square where Joy and Trev found small statues of a tortoise and a hare. They just had to had to be sat upon. We also pondered on and subsequently took photos of the wondrous, steaming subway ventilation grids in the road. The Hancock Tower was the next site on our itinerary and what a might fine erection it was too. The superb weather enhanced the stunning views from the top. The lift to the top was very fast indeed and we actually had to hang around a few minutes for our internal organs to arrive. We watched a model and audio presentation of the history of Boston and ended up being a bit embarrassed being English after learning of the actions of our fellow country men a couple of hundred years ago. We then tested our knowledge on one of the computer-quiz terminals. We were shite.
Several reels of photos later we returned to ground level and wandered over to Park Plaza and the tourist information booth. We looked for details of B & Bs outside of Boston but were disappointed. We enquired about comedy venues of which there were many and left rather bewildered. Sheer Madness Alley just had to be seen. It is the home of a comedy venue but a bit pricey. As it turned out it was closed on Sundays but we consoled ourselves with a photo session with the mural on the wall.
Picking up another Blue Trolley bus we endured severe buttock beating on the wooden bench at the back as we basked in the sunshine. Next stop was the harbour where we partook in drinks and lollies by the waterfront and watched the other tourists go by. They were easily spotted with all their cameras, sunglasses, video cameras and appropriate bags, purses, bumbags, handbags etc. We weren’t like that at all, lordy no. We were positively discreet in comparison.
We made our way to Quincy Market. Trev wandered, the girls shopped and Clive played with his camera. More photos were taken before we regrouped and called in at the Comedy Connection booking office. We booked our seats for tonight’s, I mean, tonite’s bargain show ($6 each using the discount flyers that Linda and Joy had procured during their shopping session).
The Church Of Christian Science
Back to the Blue Trolley. We “stayed on till the end of the line” as Judy Garland once sang apparently (before our time obviously… we’re young you know). “Have you got glue on your butts?” the driver enquired. It was by now apparent that each driver had contradicting tales to tell about Boston’s history but it was all very entertaining.
Returning to the market we found an open-air cafe and ordered tea and cakes. The cups of tea were very huge indeed. Joy asked for a “fizzy” drink which confused the waiter no end until he realised that we were English. He made no delay in apologising for the Boston Tea Party. More photos were taken with and without the waiter before we returned to the Comedy Connection.
We appeared to be early as the place was almost empty and was so well air-conditioned that we all had to keep our jackets on. There were only another twelve or so punters in the place but, maintaining our British reserve, we sat at the back.
The ‘bargain show’ started: a revue of topical jokes most of which went over our heads as we, obviously had no idea of local politics. However, we discovered that the massive, city-wide, traffic-stopping roadworks was known locally as ‘The Big Dig’ which will, it was hoped, improve traffic flow on completion. One of our trolley-bus drivers had described the Dig as “(destroying) “the way to the future”” NOW we understood.
Joy shocked the waitress by asking for a glass for her bottle of ‘Bud’ whilst Trev caused confusion by asking for Cranberry juice. We learnt that you have to pronounce it “Cran-Berry” with the emphasis on the ‘berry’ otherwise they thought we were talking jibberish. To be fair we usually are.
After the show the management announced that we could stay for the next show. There was a collection of comedians who did their acts one after the other. By now the place had filled up considerably. The last guy was especially funny and we spent the rest of the holiday using his catchphrases as “I wanna know!”; “Gimmie a marble” and “I’m an idiot!”. Well, I guess you had to be there…
22:00
We slipped serenely into the night in search of food at Pizza Uno where much innuendo was exchanged.
After sustenance we made our way back to the hotel using the ‘T’: the local name for the underground train system. After some confusion about which platform we needed to catch the train from we arrived back at the Midtown and hit our respective sacks.
MONDAY 09.10.95 – Columbus Day
The girls woke up to ‘Sesame Street’. The boys woke up to Take That. Nuff said.
To ‘The Pour House’. Clive resumed his role as milk monitor. Trev had pancakes whilst Linda was the talk of the town with her toast AND muffins. We made our way across town towards the harbour, stopping off at Trinity Church for a butchers. Linda made the mistake of opening the door for exiting tourists and almost spent the entire day there. Plenty of “thank yous” but no tips. T’was very nice inside.
From there we hit the park where some squirrels were photographed and then onto Boston Common where a ‘fun run’ was underway. Across the Common to Downtown Crossing where Trev was made an offer by a passing HMV. We checked the prices within: CHEAP! Trev popped into a clothes shop and purchased some traaa-ziz and searched, unsuccessfully, for bootlaces.
Arriving at the harbour we collected our tickets for the Whale Watching trip which Trev had booked by phone several weeks earlier. The Ginger One decided to leave his newly purchased trousers in a locker at the Aquarium.
12:30
We were the first in the queue to board ‘Voyager II’ – The Search For Whales.
12:00
We headed out to sea with the captain pointing our various sights of interest along the coast.
14:15
Only the tallest buildings in the city were now visible on the horizon. The weather continued to be warm and sunny: we basked and took more photos.
Clive decided to count his money and lost $1 to the gentle breeze. Linda found some chocolate do’nuts called ‘Lady Linda’ whist the drink that she and Trev partook of looked like baby’s bottles minus the teats.
Clive had another distressing experience when he became trapped in the loo for ten minutes. He tried to attract attention by politely requesting assistance through a grille at the bottom of the door but to no avail as everyone was, he thought, probably on deck gasping and thrilling at the acrobatics of the whales. He eventually made good his escape and in a hot and flustered condition rejoined his chums on deck. He was relieved that there had been less marine life on display than could be seen on the Hanger Lane gyratory system on a Friday morning in May.
Trev ‘n’ the Girlz visited the on-board shop. Linda bought a t-shirt.
At last whales were spotted. A small Minky basked in the distance together with four Humpbacks. As the boat manoeuvred itself everyone rushed to one side of the ship almost causing a disaster of ‘Posiedon’ proportions. One of the whales was a baby sleeping with it’s mother. Cue heft amount of “ahhhhs”.
Clive had yet another unfortunate experience when a Nuthatch took a fancy to his thick, black locks and landed upon his bonce. For a while this was more entertaining than the whales. The bird had hitched a ride from the harbour and continued to explore the boat whilst we followed the whales. Eventually one of the whales obliged us with a ‘high-dive’. Almost satisfied we set course for the return to Boston. It was a long, choppy but pleasant trip back. With the now cold wind whistling through our hair we donned our hats, gloves and jumpers. Clive got friendly with a Canadian lady, nay, a betrothed Canadian lady whom, it transpired, had friends in Reading. Small globe.
We disappeared below decks for hot chocolates and coffee before returning to the starboard side of the lower deck taking in the view and experiencing the wind. The sunset over Boston was very beautiful and more photos were taken. We pondered the possibility of Clive going overboard and doing his ‘Free Willy’ act.
On arrival at Boston harbour we chatted whilst the crew went about doing docking things. We were all so busy chatting that we failed to notice that everyone was disembarking.
Back at the Aquarium Trev ventured forth to collect his ‘pants’ whilst the others watched the seals and wondered whether they should ask someone why ‘harbour’ had been spelt incorrectly in the ‘Harbor Seals’ sign. P’raps not.
We walked to Quincy Market in search of a restaurant. We eventually arrived at an eatery the name of which escaped us but will always be known to us as ‘Hell’. There was a queue to be seated so Joy dispatched herself to the toilet. The queue immediately vanished and we were offered a table. The offer was withdrawn until Joy had returned from the loo so we lost our place in the queue. Linda extracted Joy from the toilet where she had been “touching up my nick-nacks”.
At last we were taken to a table where we were served by a delightful specimen of woman-kind called Dottie: “I’m Dardeee” she said. Service was most definitely NOT included and we had to lay our own table.
Trev: “excuse me?”
Dottie: “Whad’s da madder?”
Trev: “could we order drinks please?”
Dottie: “whadya want?”
Trev: “what have you got?”
Dottie: “we gahd everything”
Trev: “I’ll have a Diet Pepsi please”
Dottie: “we ain’t gahd it”
Shortly after Trev had a slice of turkey dropped onto his plate (it had been quietly stuck to the bottom of someone else’s plate). Dottie proceeded to scrape it up and return it to the correct plate by using Trev’s knife which, she claimed, was still clean.
“But he’s vegetarian!” exclaimed Linda. “The knife’s had turkey on it!”
Trev also protested and the wrinkled crone tried to make amends by engaging us in friendly banter.
“Is he English?” she croaked indicating Trev.
“We all are” replied Linda, Joy and Clive in unison. Needless to say no tip was forthcoming.
We were all very tired but managed a swift one in an Irish bar called ‘The Black Rose’. We made our way back to the Hotel using the ‘T’: no problems this time apart from not knowing which doors were going to open to let us off. Consequently we missed our stop and alighted at the next some 1/4 mile away.
The girls prepared for bed whilst the boys prepared to pick the car up the next morning. It suddenly occurred to Trev that only he seemed to be covered by the car insurance: a fact he was not exactly elated about. A hasty meeting was convened in the girls boudoir. The meeting was brief but it was agreed that Clive and Trev would do all the driving thereby necessitating that monies had to be found to cover one more Fart.
It was very hot in the Hotel that night as we couldn’t turn the heating off. In desperation we all slept naked in the local park. Well, we would have done if we hadn’t decided to open the windows instead.
FART TWO: FARTS ON THE RUN
TUESDAY 10.10.95
Linda’s alarm went off at 06:00 instead of 08.00. Having packed with an awe inspiring display of speed, flair and elan we set off for ‘The Pour House’. Joy had pancakes with mountains of cream, Linda had cinnamon and raisin pancakes, Clive had a pile of everything and Trev had his usual eggy affair. The weather was still warm and plezz.
Back at the hotel we were told that we could have a bus to the airport (where we were to pick the car up) at any time: “You wannit, you gaahdit”
We strained our muscles as as dragged our baggage to the lobby and then onto the bus where, for $5.50 each, we toured the hotels of Boston to pick people up and then toured the terminals of Logan airport to drop them off. Our driver told us where to wait for the Avis courtesy bus. It arrived. It was number 13. We got on. It broke down. We transferred to another.
The Avis Car Hire reception area was a hive of activity and we managed to fill up the ‘waiting area’ with our bags whilst the various details were sorted out. A very nice lady took down Trev’s details and we all wondered who does her hair and why she let them get away with it. We were only allowed to have a two-door car but there weren’t any available so we slummed it with a four-door Dodge Intrepid (white) at no extra cost (it was normally $8 extra per door per day!).
Joy asked for a little man to explain how to drive the car and the nice lady with the eccentric hair arranged for a Super Mario look-a-like to attend to us. Super Mario explained the controls to Clive and Trev and we were all rather nervous about taking the vehicle onto the public highway. Clive drove around the car park several times to be ‘at one’ with the wheels. The breaks definitely worked: with the slightest hint of foot pressure we all shot forward in our seats. Passing Mr Mario several times as he smiled and waved it was not long before Clive was exuding confidence and Trev navigated us to Highway 1A.
We soon realised that a ‘rotary’ was not a grill but what we ‘gaahd-damned Limeys’ called a roundabout. Clive decided that he was Brad Pitt whilst Trev was his lesser known brother Cess. The girls put this down to some form of male bonding.
13:32
We entered New Hampshire
13:39
Our first toll booth: the nice man in the booth gave us some advice: get closer to the booth on the drivers side. Yep. Thanks. We’re still getting the hang of it ok? Driving here was very laid back and no one tried to cut us up.
13:48
We missed our exit which seemed to be across the central reservation and over a bridge which Joy thought looked a bit too much like a roller coaster.
13:50
Hit Maine and, from time to time, hit the white lines at the side of the road which made a curiously amusing farting sound. We tried to ‘fork off’ but it was actually a Weigh Station. We eventually found the right exit but got a tad lost. Another toll booth: this time we had to pay at t’other end.
14:10
An assertive sign instructed us to “Watch For Moose”.
14:11
We left the highway at junction 2. Trev decided to head to Portland. The others thought it best to go with him.
15:00
Pit-stop at Shoreville Plaza. A nice man let us use his loo’s even though his shop was closed. We visited the convenience store next door and had an impromptu lunch on the grass. Everyone threw their rubbish at Linda. Trevor announced he could see Joy’s pussy. Hmm. There was a cat on her t-shirt. Back in the car the excitement mounted as Clive used reverse gear for the first time.
16:13
Mountains in the distance: we were Fartz On The Run. Clive couldn’t resist twiddling with knobs and accidentally turned the cassette player off.
16:42
We weren’t surrounded. That’s to say there was nothing ahead, behind, above, below or either side of us: the road was empty.
16:42
Clive turned off the tape again but we were all very proud of his driving and agreed to give him his marbles back.
16:49
Trev announced that he fancied a frolic. Clive told him he could probably have one when they got to the motel. We laughed.
17:19
The tape finished so the boys entertained the girls with a selection of war film themes such as ‘The Great Escape’ and ‘633 Squadron’.
17:21
Sign post spotted for ‘White River Junction’ which was where we had been heading all day.
17:22
White River in the flesh. We checked in with ease and moved into our rooms which were next door to each other. Everything here had remote control: tv; lights; climate. There were 61 channels on the tv here and all of them crap. Joy found the US version of ‘Supermarket Sweep’ and the ‘Shopping Channel’: the girls were happy and content.
Early evening and we crossed the car park to the restaurant where service seemed polite but slow. There was absolutely nothing vegetarian on the menu. The kitchen couldn’t be bothered to rustle up an omelette from the ‘breakfast menu’ so Trev had to make do with fish. The veggies didn’t arrive until after we had eaten our main course and then we waited and waited for some attention. Then we waited some more. Eventually we cleared up after ourselves and attracted the attention of a waiter in order to procure some puddings. Our original waitress returned with the bill and we had to explain that we hadn’t finished and wanted some pudding. The girls had ‘hot chocolate puddings’ which were lukewarm. Another long wait occurred at the till: it was obviously too much trouble to take our money. Joy was prevented from buying jewellery from the small gift section by the slowness and general incompetence of the staff. We vowed never to return.
Back at the motel reception we asked about local bars. They all seemed to be in the town which would have involved us using the car so we made do with some ‘Buds’ from the local mart and retired to the boys room to discuss tomorrow’s doings.
Clive and Trev were both pink from the sun.
WEDNESDAY 11.10.95
There were only three tables in the breakfast room. We were beaten to ours by an elderly couple because they moved faster than us. We familiarised ourselves with the breakfast vending equipment. Clive, Joy and Linda were the ‘Rice Krispie’ kids whilst Trev broke his fast with ‘Cheerios’. Over breakfast the boys revealed that they had rung home to Blighty before breakfast so the girls did the same.
It was Trev’s turn to drive and we circled the car park a few times and did some emergency stops which resulted in Trev and Clive almost having their faces squished against the windscreen.
10:09
We set orf into the misty, cold morning and stopped just along the road at ‘Cactus Jack’s’ for possible entertainment later on (ie free Line Dancing lessons).
10:23
Clive fiddled with the window controls because Trev wouldn’t let him play with the buttons on the remote in their room. Trev caused minor whiplash injuries as he got used to the breaks.
10:30
We found Highway 91 and headed north through some lovely little towns and villages. A sign informed us that “Bridge Freezes Before Road” and it took us much pondering before we worked out that what meant.
10:47
ROAD ENDED!! No warning of junctions or directions: they were just, suddenly there.
10:15
Railroad crossing: beware trains! “I think there’s one due next Wednesday” said Clive. We laughed.
We soon entered New Hampshire and and were desperate to see a moose. Lots of ‘moose crossing’ signs but no mooses. Unlike when we saw the ‘School Bus’ signs and always saw one.
11:10
We stopped by Lake Pemigewassett and strolled down the slope to the waters edge for some photos. Joy collected a leaf and boiled sweets were passed around: we were on holiday and we knew how to have a good time.
11:50
The White Mountains: “Sip an Ice Cream Soda at Clark’s Trading Post” a sign ordered us. More signs: “Break For A Moose: It Could Save Your Life” (we didn’t realise that moose were so adept at First Aid); “No Stopping Or Standing” (we assumed it was ok to squat then).
11:57
We all had a yawn. Joy and Trev shared their previous night’s dreams with Clive and Linda. Trev had dreamt of seeing Cher and Joan Sims in the rubble of a BBC dressing room after a terrorist attack whilst Joy had drempt of Chris Evans being at her school and telling him about Dottie.
Another sign: “Blind Person”. Just the one?
We passed a ‘white line’ painter in the middle of the road and Trev remained the wrong side of the line until he heard the others scream.
The sun had finally decided to appear and made the scenery look even more beautiful.
12:09
Woodstock. We stopped by a river for photos of it and ourselves by the car with an improvised fig leaf.
We filled up with petrol. Despite all our best efforts we were unable to operate the pump so Trev got a little man to show him how. We also got directions to Clark’s Trading Post where we arrived at…
12:38
… it was closed. Why? There were some bears that performed in daily shows. Why? Trev, Joy and Clive took some photos but Linda refrained in protest at their unnecessary captivity. Trev felt guilty. Animal Welfare seemed an unknown concept in these parts.
We returned to Woodstock and frequented the ice cream parlour in Morris Street. Funny enough it was Joy wot spotted it. Lunch was in the local diner where we made good use of their splendid toilets. After all, you never know where your next rest room is going to be. We purchased stamps and postcards from the Post Office and marvelled at the many verandas with swinging seats and rocking chairs just like in the movies.
In the car again we head for ‘The Lost River’ but wondered how it could be lost since we know where it is.
13:47
We ARE the Kids In America as Kim Wilde once sang.
13:49
White Mountain National Forest.
13:51
Trev passed a truck. It must have chaffed a bit.
13:53
We found the ‘Lost River’ gorge. The tickets were $7 each and we all got our hands stamped. It was a long trail and apart from a few other souls we had it all to ourselves. There were many “adventure caves” along the way. Bravely, Joy, Clive and Linda sent Trev in to investigate. There were all very different and he bumped his bonce on more than one occasion. Clive joined Trev in investigating ‘The Cave Of Silence’. It was silent no longer with them in it.
We paused for a pause and spotted some fish in a pond. As we sat quietly a red squirrel ran behind us and attracted our attention with a loud screeching noise. Back at the entrance to the gorge we saw a Chipmunk.
Tea shop and gift shop: Joy emerged with a large, brown bag. Again we were surprised by another squirrel and once back at the car we totted up our ‘wildlife’ score:
Red Squirrels: 2
Chipmunks: 2 (or it may have been the same one twice)
Moose: 0
Still.
15:45
Back on the road.
15:58
Lincoln.
16:00
Passed Loon Mountain Park rather sharpish incase we were dragged in as exhibits.
16:09
Trev used his horn. Slag.
16:10
Clive noticed a mysterious hand print on Joy’s window.
16:11
We pulled over at a stopping place but there was no view so we moved on. Trev practised the Bostonian way of driving: “F*&k yous you dumb broad” etc.
By now our ears were popping regularly due to the high altitude.
16:16
Kancamagus Highway
16:22
Scenic view!
16:44
“Blackberry Crossing” advised a sign. Hmm… what happened to the moose?
16:51
Clive revealed that he could play ‘I Left My Heart In San Francisco’ on his organ.
16:53
A tricky left-turn across a busy highway towards Conway where we duly arrived in the rush hour.
17:21
Passed Glen Ellis
17:35
We were overtaken by a car with the mysteriously brief registration plate saying simply ‘B’.
17:38
We were not surrounded again.
17:52
Stopped to photograph the Mount Washington Hotel which was a magnificent erection so it was.
18:10
Linda was desperate for a pee and found relief in a remote hotel as have so many before her.
18:35
Littleton. We have dinner in ‘The Happy Hour’ which was rather expensive but we all found something to satisfy us.
We got a bit lost on the way back due to the lack of road-signs. Eventually and quite by accident we made our way back via Misery Mountain and Broomstick Road. Trev performed a hair-raising turn in the road in the face of oncoming traffic. You could smell the adrenelin…
We marvelled at the many Halloween decorations and glowing Pumpkins before eventually arriving back at the motel.
By mistake Joy used the bubble-bath as shampoo and then proceeded to turn off the toilet light whilst Linda sat within in deep contemplation. Oh how we laughed.
THURSDAY 12.10.05
The girls vanity light had been rendered buggered so they advised the front desk. Someone was dispatched immediately. They hit it very hard and, behold, it was working again. We breakfasted on bagels, cereal, juice and toast. We got ‘a look’ over breakfast as Clive and Joy attempted to hum the theme from ‘It’s A Knockout’. Clive played his joker by taking all the breakfast things to the bin.
We adjourned to out rooms and Trev got on the blower to try and book four places on the Mount Washington Cog Railway for tomorrow. At $35 it was rather steep… mountain… steep… geddit? Oh please yerself. The phone call was not without incident:
“Can I have your name Sir?”
“Ellis”
“Is that Raymond Ellis?”
“No”
“Oh”
So what was that all about?
10:00
We’re off with Clive at the wheel.
Clive pointed out that the State motto was “Live Free Or Die”. Does that mean that if you don’t they kill you? We tried to live for free but everything cost too much.
We noticed a few signs saying “Wrong Way”. Not very helpful really.
10:02
We were hooted at by a truck because we were too busy marvelling at the views which looked particularly beautiful on this sunny day. There were lots of “Oooh”s; “Ahhh”s; “Oh I say”s and “Well bugger me”s.
10:25
We passed the Garden Of Ellis and Ellis Music. Ellis were obviously very big around these parts.
10:27
Bethel which was real purdy.
10:31
Attacked by leaves.
10:34
Clive stopped. So did the car.
10:43
We went off the road a wee bit. “Three Wheels On My Wagon” sang Joy.
11:00
We stopped for scenic views and photos by a small lake and threw stones in it for good measure.
Retracing our steps we stopped in Gaysville. No, really, get us started on the innuendo and we’ll be here all day… We purchased more postcards at the Gaysville Trading Post where, for some inexplicable reason, a woman yodelled at Joy.
11:47
The four of us almost said farewell to our present lives as we were overtaken by a speeding truck in a 35kph zone just as something was coming the other way.
12:07
Passed Mount Horrid and it’s Great Cliffs. Some scenic views but not good enough for us.
12:15
Took a circular, scenic route which was so nice that we did it again. Lots of trees. Billions of leaves. Oodles of colour.
Trev: “We’re not lost. We just don’t know where we are”.
Suddenly and without warning, we were in Goshen. Clive made lots of friends as he stopped to let the locals pass with cheery cries of “Hi” and “Howdy”.
12:44
Ripton.
12:51
Middlebury petrol stop.
13:17
At Middlebury itself we parked at the Information Centre. Feeling better informed we walked into the town centre for snacks and sodas. Stopping for photos Linda noticed that Trevor still had a sticky label on his new jeans. We laughed.
Having walked through the park we popped into a camera shop where Joy asked someone to have a look at her troublesome camera: “Yes, it’s very nice Miss”.
The Congregational Church, Middlebury
14:54
On the road again. The car interior was boiling but the air-conditioning soon put us to rights. The boys performed another stunning duet whilst singing along to The Carpenters and revealed to the girls that they were planning to record as The Cobblers.
15:15
Our first ‘school bus’ experience and we stopped. Well, it IS the law.
15:20
We pissed off the local postman by not knowing where we were going as per.
13:23
Another school bus moment.
15:42
Hassled by a stupid lorry driver. Stupid trucker.
15:44
We pulled over and lost the lorry.
15:46
Soiled undergarments all around as we failed to stop at a ‘STOP’ sign.
Clive: “you said go straight over at the junction!”
Trev: “when it was clear!”
Trev will never forget the look on the face of the driver of the school bus that was approaching, at speed, from the right. We adjusted the air-conditioning to expel the odour of adrenaline…
15:15
Joy spotted a view and we pulled over for a photo session. We don’t care: we’re tourists.
16:44
Montpelier and photos of the excellent State Building. We found a veggie restaurant and chowed down.
17:24
Up and away.
18:21
Joy checked out ‘Cactus Jacks’ for Western gear before we returned to the hotel to freshen up. The boyz checked out the Indian restaurants in the Yellow Pages.
18:50
Off in search of West Lebanon and the Indian Restaurant. After much beating about the local bushes we stopped at an out of town shopping complex. We enquired at a liqour store and were sent over the road to what turned out to be a Thai restaurant. Not quite what we were after. Trevor finally manages to purchase some boot laces in a shoe shop where he entertained the staff with his accent.
Back in the car we travelled further along the same road and eventually found the eatery. It was a birrova walk from the car park and Joy found a ‘Stars and Stripes’ flag on the way which she kept as a souvenir.
The restaurant was extremely warm and almost empty. Clive lost part of his table cloth as it kept slipping. The owner of the joint recognised our accents and started chatting. He came from Birmingham and we discussed America’s lack of adventure in foreign cuisine.
The meal went without incident and Trev was relieved to finally be able to get some ale down his gullet. He wasn’t, however, expecting the Newcastle Brown Ale (“especially imported from the UK”) to be fizzy. The fact that it was listed on the menu as ‘Newquay Brown Ale’ should have told him all was not what it seemed.
We all made favourable comments in the visitor book and took our leave.
Back at the hotel we had a short meeting about our movements over the next few days before returning to our ‘bouds’.
FRIDAY 13.10.95
Joy failed the first initiative test of the day by having problems with the shower.
Breakfast: we marvelled at Clive’s beard which was coming on a treat. This show of admiration caused him to spill his coffee. Joy topped this by unintentionally juggling her orange juice which then proceeded to go everywhere. Linda and Trev will always be grateful to Joy and Clive for the way they managed to keep them entertained with such antics.
Trev announced that the accommodation had been booked at our next stop which was Augusta. This was followed by more entertainment as Clive’s bagel popped out of the toaster only to be nicked by “some guy”. As we gobbled we discussed the perils of navigating the U.S. road system: we always ended up where we were planning but not quite how we expected.
We returned to our rooms where the girls found a cleaner at it ‘hammer and tongs’. With the cleaning of course. She chastised the girls for not hanging the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign from the door knob and insisted on finishing whilst they got ready for the day’s excitement with Trev at the wheel and Clive at the map.
10:01
Clive announced that he knows where we are. We were suitably impressed.
10:23
Newbury.
10:49
Trev took us past a car AND a caravan. Beads of sweat stood out on his furrowed brow.
11:13
Oh little town of Bethlehem. Goodness we’d seen lots of lovely scenery already today: trees; lakes; trees; mountains; trees; streams; trees; sunshine; trees etc.
11:30
We arrived at Mount Washington Cog Railway. Trev led everyone on a circular route to the ticket office where, having completed the necessary transactions, we found that we had half an hour to spare till the next train so we adjourned for refreshments in the delightfully named Pepperass restaurant. Some flies were in residence and Clive attempted to wallop one on Linda’s head. Fortunately for Linda the fly buzzed off before Clive could take aim.
We boarded the train where we were introduced to Eric the Brake Man. Soon we were shimmying, shuddering and generally going chug-a-lug up the mountain. At it’s steepest the front of the train was 12′ above the back so when one stood up in the aisle one’s nose was almost touching the floor. Naturally we all had to try this for ourselves and, in all the excitement, a young boy farted in Joy’s face.
After an houranarf we reached the top and alighted. T’was very windy and cold but bright and clear with terrific views. A photo frenzy ensued. There was a road as well as a path up the mountain but we were glad that we hadn’t attempted either.
On the way down we were informed that there had been a small fire at the trackside at the foot of the mountain. The driver hurried back to help but, once we had got there, it turned out to be “nothing much”. We were too busy to care much as the four of us legged it to the toilets such was the fullness of our bladders.
15:45
We departed Mount Washington with our ears a-poppin’.
16:32
Our eyebrows were rendered upwards in surprise at our closeness to Canada. To celebrate we played ‘I-Spy, ‘Clive Says’ and did the ‘Hokey-Cokey’. This requires a certain degree of skill in a motor car.
16:45
Clive fiddled with the vanity mirror. Linda wrote it in the log.
17:02
Barnet. Very nice. Much better than ours.
17:05
Peacham: a typical New England village. We stopped, we photo’d and would even have visited the Post Office if it had been open.
17:35
Danville: luvverly. All the usual stuff outside the houses for Halloween: pumpkins; bundles of corn; old clothes stuffed with straw etc.
18:00
Hunger struck and we returned to Montpelier having only got lost “a bit”.
18:37
We got there eventually. We strolled up and down in search of restaurants settling on Montpelier Village Pizza where local ‘yoofs’ were gathering outside the shopping mall.
It was ‘order by numbers’ here. When the pizzas arrived they turned out to be HUGE and we wished that we hadn’t ordered garlic bread as well. At least the soft drinks were ‘bottomless’ even if we weren’t.
As we returned to the car Clive trod in some ‘doody’ and took to wiping his shoe on some long grass before almost walking into some potted plants on the sidewalk. Joy entertained us with some line-dancing in the mall and further amusement was caused by a woman talking with chips up her nose. Well, that’s how it seemed to us anyway.
Once back at the hotel we were all too tired to do anything but retire to our rooms. The boys, however, seemed unable to sleep and kept the girls awake with the sound of their giggling and singing. This resulted in Linda ringing them up with a stunningly authentic accent pretending to be the front desk having received complaints about the noise. Clive was completely taken in by this little ruse and sounded so apologetic that Linda had to reveal her true identy: Gladys Trussbucket.
The boys saw the day out watching ‘Doctor Who’ on a PBS station where Colin Baker’s frock-coat fought desperately to be the centre of attention against the awesome presence of the Cybermen and Nicola Bryant’s chest.
SATURDAY 14.10.95
We packed. We breakfasted. This involved the usual ‘wait and pounce’ routine for the table. The woman that we eventually sat next too soon disappeared. We expect this was because we intimidated her with our fearsome, early morning, baggy-eyed chomping. Or maybe Clive gave her THAT look…
After breakfast we loaded our baggage onto a trolley. Unfortunately the trolley only steered from one end and we had the wrong end. We confused the front desk clerk by splitting the bill four ways.
With all the bags squeezed into the boot we were just able to close the lid. Clive was at the wheel today with Joy in the front passenger seat. She was, therefore, in charge of general knob-fiddling whilst Trev showed Linda his routes in the back.
11:08
We passed a Boy Scout Can Drop (whatever that was) but noticed that most of the participants seemed far too old to be called BOY scouts.
11:30
Stopped for scenic views after which we admired our collection of American flies on the bumper.
11:40
St Johnsburg where we found ourselves behind a 2-gun Cherry with thermonuclear protection. We decided to give him right of way.
12:01
A moment of blind terror as a dog leapt out in front of us. Clive took evasive action and both dog and Farts were safe. Phew!
13:00
Stopped for petrol and sweetie shopping. Joy’s Milky Way turned out to be what we knew to be a Mars Bar: America is so confusing!
13:13
We entered Maine as the weather turned a bit cloudy.
14:00
Stopped for teas and bladder evacuations at the Madison Motor Inn which was a very quiet place. We missed the front entrance completely so slipped up the back passage where we found a scenic river view.
14:23
On the road again.
15:05
Man in the car in front kept slapping himself about. No, really, he did.
15:54
Augusta Comfort Inn: our new base. We missed it the first time but caught it on the rebound. Our rooms were again adjacent to each other which was handy.
We had noticed that one of the car tyres was as flat as a very flat thing with a puncture in it. We adjourned to the boys room to establish what we should do abahht it like. After much perseverance Trev managed to contact Avis and ‘Bob’ was despatched post haste. It took Bob a mere 20 minutes to arrive and, under the watchful gaze of Trev and Joy, he replaced the flat with what appeared to be a pram wheel. It was, in fact, an ’emergency wheel’, much smaller than the others and not at all ideal for extensive motoring. To add insult to injury Bob left lots of ‘items’ loose which Trev and Joy tried to return to the spare-wheel well which, they noticed was full of water.
After cleaning up we hit Augusta in search of food. We picked a place called ‘Friendlys’ and noticed an ancient and wizened old couple in gold lame. Tasteful. The waitress was a poppet however and did us proud. We all finished off with ice cream sundaes. Joy was determined to return and try all the varieties available.
Back at the hotel Joy impulsively used the toilet which then flooded the bathroom. Linda, concerned that she could not swim and had not bought her water-wings, contacted the front desk:
“Oh, good evening, I’m frightfully sorry to trouble you but our toilet appears to be flooding the room… HELP!”
Embarrassed, Joy fled into the night (well, to Clive and Trev’s room) only to bump into the approaching maintenance man. He was left to it and we all buggered off to ‘Alfred’s Bar’ adjacent to the hotel. The boys were most amused by the girls khazi capers.
A wedding reception was in full swing as were three bridesmaids. We procured a table as far away from the awful music as was possible but were continually hassled by the barman (“you folks ok?”). He meant well and it was nice to get some attention.
Joy and Trev investigated the toilets but only found one saying “Me*”. “Well, I’m ‘me'” said Joy and duly entered the ‘mens’ with her ginger colleague. Declining to use one of the wall mounted urinals for fear of doing herself a mischief she hid herself away in a cubicle. They were both, literally, pissing themselves. Well, you know what’s coming don’t you? Two macho American men entered and eyed the still chuckling Trev with much suspicion. They gave him ‘a look’ as they left the loo and later watched as he returned to Clive and Linda.
It was a matter of moments before Joy rejoined her colleagues with much mirth. The two macho types were back with big smiles on their faces. One pointed at Joy “hey, was that YOU in there with him?” Bless them, they tried their best to understand our English sense of humour. Of course, they just had to tell all their friends. It probably made the local newspapers. Probably.
Linda was Boring Ol’ Fart and returned to her bed early leaving her colleagues consuming more bottles of fizzy beer. Upon her return to the room she was delighted to see that the bog was habitable.
SUNDAY 15.10.95
Breakfast in the lobby (lobby! lobby! lobby!… sorry… Mr Blobby impression there) balanced on our knees.
Trev consulted Avis on the phone because we needed a new wheel for our wagon. The nearest Avis depot was at Portland airport so we departed with much haste after Joy had her photo taken with the pram wheel.
10:03
Toll Booth. Trev is at the wheel and instead of opening his window he managed to open all the others instead. Damn, fancy, electrickery. Oh we laughed so. Clive was consulting the map intently:
“There’s a Camp Ellis near Portland”
Trev said nothing.
10:21
Sign: “Are your tyres safe?” NO!!!
10:36
Another Toll Booth.
11:09
Somewhere near the airport we stopped to get our bearings. One cannot have enough bearings or marbles. With directions from a passing garage we traversed the block a couple of times. Eventually we found the Avis shed. Upon the door was a note saying “inside airport”. We eventually found our way to Portland Jetport and the Avis desk where a lady called Angel sorted the boys out whilst Linda and Joy had fun in the fully automated toilet facility. We also obtained the required pass enabling us to visit Canada.
The replacement Intrepid was blue with a New York State registration plate. We like blue. We have good times in blue cars. We tried out our New York personas:
“Hey, fugg you mudder fugger!”.
The tank was full and we had a message centre (but didn’t know what it was for) and the driver’s seat was electric. The steering wheel was in a funny position but, hey, who cares. It was TARDIS blue. We like blue cars. Did we tell you we liked blue cars? We do. We have better luck in blue cars. We were quietly confident.
12:00
Portland town centre. Lots of ‘Friendly’s and ‘Dennys’. Yep, ‘Dennys’: “always open (shuts 10pm)”…
We parked at the visitor information centre. Clive fiddled with another knob and his seat fell back. Inside the visitor centre we grabbed a map and with a “hello sailor” proceeded along the dockside. Feeling peckish we spotted a small cafe and burst forth for a snack. It was hear that Clive discovered that his wallet was missing and, after a thorough body search, he returned to the car whilst the other Farties sat sitting at an outside table with hot tea, cocoa and some feathered friends who were cruising for crumbs.
Clive returned in triumph with his wallet and we proceeded onward walking along some railway track in a devil-may-care fashion and taking photos of a passing steam train on the adjacent track.
A BEACH! We paddled with our boots on because it was a bit nippy. Heading for some rocks we relaxed and, following Depeche Mode’s advice, we proceeded to ‘Enjoy The Silence’. Sat on a rock Linda looked pensive. It made a good photo though.
Awoken from our peaceful solitude by a group of screaming girls we retreated to a playground where we swung around for a while. Clive and Joy watched a local pussy chasing a squirrel before joining in the fun. The local residents seemed to find us amusing.
Onwards to the Observatory which, despite much positive coverage in the guide book, was not exactly up to Greenwich standards. Oh, it was closed as well.
As we strolled along a dog decided to join us. It was very sweet of him and much appreciated but we couldn’t seem to shake him off. We discussed with him the possibility of returning to his owner who appeared to be tinkering with a car. After pawsing for thought our canine chum declined our advice and disappeared into a bar. Our encounters with nature were not over however as Clive found a small snake by almost stepping on it.
We continued into the town centre where we found a car with an amusing sticker in the window: “Support Your Right To Arm Bears”. We laughed. The owner appeared:
“Don’t tell me I’ve got a flat?!”
We assured him that we were only laughing at the car sticker and that we agreed wholeheartedly with the sentiment.
An Indian restaurant was located for future reference and we took some pictures of a nice church before returning to the car. Clive had the key. In the car we discussed Joy’s cake diet before being informed by the message centre that Clive had left his door open. So THAT’S what it’s for! Well, it didn’t actually mention Clive by name but you get the drift.
15:54
We arrived at Portland Lighthouse in Fort Williams Park. Our pupils dilated at the sight of a woman in a bright yellow tracksuit who looked like a banana.
More photos were taken before we found out there were no toilets in the vicinity. Why is there such a lack of loos here?! We Brits are very keen on things lavatorial. Especially humour.
WE. NEED. FOOD.
16:45
Supermarket Sweep! We hit the aisles and procured crisps, drinks, chocolates etc to keep us going till dinner. They were consumed within the car with great gusto.
17:08
Two Lights State Park. A short tour of the car park and we moved on. The sun had now appeared and the sky cleared.
17:15
In Scarborough and heading for the beach. T’was very nice here: nice houses and nice views. It seemed very exclusive and parking was very restricted: we could see the beach but couldn’t stop to get at it. We toured more of Scarborough and eventually found our way to the town centre and an accessible beach. It was uncannily like Brighton seafront: fun fairs; ice cream; chips etc. We strolled along the beach taking more photos and paddled with our boots on again. Our names were written in the sand and we watched them wash away. Linda decided to throw a stick into the sea. The stick had other ideas however and, instead, flew towards Joy narrowly missing her bonce. Even the sight of a flying boat cruising over the bay did not distract our attention from our perilously full bladders: the toilets were closed here as well.
18:30
Sunset over the bay. Ahhhh.
19:05
We returned to the Indian Restaurant in Portland. Yum, yum. Not before peeing however. We created quite a deluge between us.
Fulfilled with Indian cuisine we returned to the hotel and hit our respective sacks.
MONDAY 16.10.95
Lobby, lobby, lobby! At breakfast in the aforementioned lobby we met a nice ol’ geezer from Cape Cod who chatted with us about his visits to Europe in particular Scandinavia. On discovering Trev worked for the British Broadcorping Castration he revealed his passion for ‘Are You Being Served?’ and looked most perturbed when we all groaned at mention of the programme. We had all noticed the nightly re-runs over here on Public Service Broadcasting and were at a loss to understand it’s popularity. Addressing Trev he asked;
“Is Marrllie Sugden still aliiiiiive? When you get back, you tell the BBC to make more ‘Are You Being Served'”
It cropped up in conversation that Trev was a vegetarian and the old fellow was not impressed at all saying this was why the ginger fellow didn’t look as healthy as his colleagues.
“Huh, you can tell YOU work for the BBC”. Yes. That’s right. Trev was probably a left- wing, commie, lesbian bastard too.
10:00
Exit hotel.
10:51
A passing shower.
11:05
We entered the town of Bingham and felt it’s outskirts were delightful. We stopped so that Linda, who shared the same name as the town (err, no, not ‘Linda’) could have her photo taken outside the local Post Office and bank. Stamps were purchased. Only in America could Bingham be adjacent to Moscow on a map.
The sun was now out and the leaves danced in the wind. Blimey, this is just like Wordsworth isn’t it?
11:32
Lake Kennebec: photo, photo, photo!!
12:00
MOOSE ALERT!
12:01
No moose.
We were STILL alongside Lake Kennebec.
12:21
A flurry of snow.
12:25
It just got heavier!
12:28
Sunshine!
12:35
More snow! What’s going on? Someone ring Ian McCaskill!
12:45
We arrived at Jackman Trading Post where we filled up with petrol. The place sold a whole variety of knives, guns and ammunition. In fact it sold everything you could possibly need to hunt, shoot, stuff and nail things to the wall with. How quaint. Trevor was tempted by a pair of novelty plastic breasts. Meanwhile Linda had shot out of the car and into the toilet like a Scud missile in ankle-boots.
13:10
Sunshine again.
13:15
More rain. More snow. Still no moose.
14:06
Greenville with sea planes in the harbour. We shop and shop, stop for drinks and chips and then do more shopping. Trev and Linda both purchased cassettes of New Age type ‘relaxation’ music to soothe their minds. One of Joy’s credit cards was politely declined in a gift shop. The others made an embarrassed exit and befriended a lady in a yellow jacket who thought we were hikers. What US? Bother with thermal hats? Walking boots? Waterproofs? Huge rucksacks? Never! Well, Trev does but he didn’t want to confess that to the others what with Linda’s woolly hat causing merriment wherever we go.
“You’re dressed for the weather”, Yellow Jacket informed Linda.
“Oh, she’s not though”, said Trev upon spotting a scantily clad schoolgirl. Trev saw too many ‘Carry On’ films as a child. He’s scarred.
16:03
Back in the car we ventured deeper and deeper in to Maine’s wilderness which was becoming quite spooky.
16:18
The road suddenly ended as we entered Lily Bay Park. Now we were confused.
16:31
AHA! We were actually at the entrance to a working forest (it has a job??) where we were asked $8 each to enter. Umm, we’ll “have a nice day now” ’cause we’re gone like a fart on the breeze. Four farts on a breeze. We returned the way we came. Trees, trees, trees, trees, trees.
16:43
Back on a surfaced road again.
16:55
Stopped to let Trev out for a photo. The others drove off without him. Joy saw a view that she fancied so the car halted yet again. Unfortunately this meant Trev caught back up with it.
Still no moose.
We entered Bangor with Trev’s cassette tape playing Fiddlers Dram’s ‘The Day We Went To Bangor’. We stopped at Mama Baldiccis for food where we were welcomed and show to a table despite entering by the wrong door and finding ourselves in a storeroom. Joy had steak and chips whilst the others went for something Italian. We made the best of the free bread and water.
Back at the hotel bottled beers were purchased and consumed in the boys room.
TUESDAY 17.10.95
The Great Breakfast Robbery (cue ‘The Great Escape’ theme). We purloined bagels, muffins, butter, apples and plates for our lunch. When we checked out we found that someone had charged a meal to our rooms. Obviously Linda had been sleep-eating again.
10:05
It was windy and cold as the Trolley Dollies and the Beefy Boys (err… Linda’s description) stuffed the boot and hit the road.
Clive: “It’ll be warm in Canada”.
Trev: “I can smell bullshit”.
10:25
We stopped at some roadworks and a big trucker stopped to let three ducks cross the road. Aww.
10:54
Farmington town.
Clive told us of all the songs he can play on an organ. We decided to re-write the words and bring out an album called ‘Farts On 45’.
Pedants Corner: Of course, only vinyl singles are recorded at that speed: an album would be at 33 1/2 rpm. Since our debut recording collection would be released on CD however this is irrelevant. Back to the plot…
11:08
We were now travelling with Joy’s new teddies in the back of the car. The furry, cute kind of teddy… not the slinky under-ware kind, honest. One of the teddies was hanging by it’s neck from a rear coat hook. Exquisite.
11:31
We stopped at Kingsfield for gas. Pardon us.
11:53
Sugar Loaf Mountain. We could all see the ski-slopes and pondered the concept of ‘Farts On Ice’.
Trees, trees, trees, lakes, trees, trees, mountains, trees, trees and , err, trees.
12:43
Coburn Gore customs at the US/Canadian border. We sought relief in the bogs and had our passes stamped. The girls were concerned that there was no light in the ‘ladies’ and we felt guilty when we realised that we had just smuggled beer over the border. Well, we’d forgotten that we had a few bottles in the trunk for ‘personal use’. Oh well, no harm done.
13:07
Clive’s first sneeze in Canada and it was a whopper. We practised our French:
“Combien de stylos avez vous?”
Oh dear.
14:15
Lennoxville. We parked next to a park and had our picnic in the freezing cold sunshine and wind. Trev had a slide and we all played on the roundabout till we got giddy and sick.
15:00
Back on the road.
16:54
Montreal. Top skyline but what do the bus drivers think they are doing?? They pulled out regardless of any and all traffic. Trev was at the wheel and cursed as realisation dawned that this was the rush-hour. Bearings and marbles were lost, we all got terribly confused and we turned around. The drivers here were worse than in Boston.
Sign: “Vos Phares?”
Our translation: “Are you f**ked?”
According to a sign on the back of the buses their drivers are allowed to pull out regardless. Wonder how their bed partners feel about that?
Much harassment ensues with more mad drivers, all road signs in French only and the one-way system. We can see the Econolodge where we’re staying the night but couldn’t establish how to get to it. After working our way around the one-way system once more we managed to get in the right lane for the hotel and checked in with much relief. The hotel was adequate but not very impressive and the service was very French-Canadian (ie Basil Fawlty on a bad day). An early night was agreed upon and we partook of dinner in the hotel restaurant serenaded by Take That who, it seemed, wanted us back for good.
Over dinner we discussed marriage, families, plans for word peace and tomorrow’s bowel movements before retiring to the boys’ room for telly and chat. We all agreed to have a lie in tomorrow morning of at least, oh, two and a half weeks?
The wall between our adjoining rooms was “waffer theen”: not only could Linda and Joy hear Trev and Clive but they could see them undress and dance the ‘Dance Of The Soiled Smalls’.
WEDNESDAY 18.10.95
Only Clive had a good night’s sleep.
Take That serenaded us again at breakfast before we returned to our rooms to pack which did not take long at all as we’d hardly bothered to unpack the night before. We asked directions for public transport to the city centre from the very much nicer man on reception duty. He also furnished us with some change.
The weather was cold, windy and damp as we made our way across the multi-lane road via footbridge to the bus stop were we leapt on one towards Square Victoria. Using Clive’s handy tourist book we strolled around to get our bearings getting rather moist in the rain. Photos were taken of such splendid sights as the Montreal Basilica: nice stained glass. Horse and trap ride? Nah, no thanks.
Cathedral Of Notre Dame in Old Montreal
Bank Of Montreal Head Office
By the time we had walked down to the waterfront the weather was sunny and warm. Photos of Marshe Bonsecours occurred which, bizarrely, had a aeroplane’s rear end stuck out of it.
Trev purchased further Metro tickets as he was the only one with any local currency. A rather rude little git in the ticket booth initially pretended not to speak English and generally went out of his way to be unhelpful in the traditional French-Canadian manner. Eventually he handed out four tickets instructing us to move 2 inches to our left and place them in the collection box.
Our next stop was the Oratoire St. Joseph which was high on a hill up a lorra, lorra steps. It was very windy at the top which made a pleasant change for us as we’re normally very windy down the bottom. We pondered the view before going inside. More stained glass. Teas and wees occurred before we checked out the extraordinary gift shop which contained such gems as plastic Madonnas (the Virgin rather than the singer) and postcards of the Pope which appeared to show him picking his nose. Trev got the titters at the people who were kissing the feet of the various plastic likenesses of Jesus that were round and about.
On our way out we made friends with a squirrel. Bless. Much cheered we retraced our steps back down to the road. We located a bank nearby and questioned a member of staff who helped us change some US $ and travel cheques for Canadian dosh.
It was now Joy’s turn to purchase some tickets for the Metro. She volunteered to use her French only to find that the lady in the booth spoke English but, oh, what a joy to find a friendly face! We laughed. Boarding the Metro, Clive realised he had slipped aboard a different carriage from the rest of us. He looked a bit worried until he spotted his chums waving at him through the carriage-end windows.
From the Metro we leapt onto a bus.
“It’s the wrong bus!” exclaimed Trev and we leapt off, crossed the road via a subway and leapt onto the right bus going the right way. In all the general excitement we got off the bus a stop too early and had a birrova long walk back to the car.
Not surprisingly we got lost trying to find our way out of Montreal towards Ottowa. Having passed our hotel several times we eventually managed to get onto 40 West: the road to Ottowa. By now we were all very tired apart from Clive who was full of it. Life that is.
17:05
Montreal in the rear-view mirror.
17:24
Ontario. Clive did his pilot speech as we ‘landed’ at a gas station. A nice man washed our screen as we filled up.
We headed west into the setting sun.
19:00
Ottowa. Found the Econolodge easily but couldn’t find reception. The rooms were on the first floor. There were no lift or trolleys so we had to drag our baggage to our rooms by hand. Settling into our rooms Clive found an Indian restaurant listed in the hotel’s ‘info’ magazine. Apparently we could get 10% discount by showing our room keys. We’re the Farties: we like a bargain.
Only a short walk from the hotel we found the restaurant which, not surprisingly, was empty. The past week and a half had led us to believe that anywhere over here that sold nutritious food would not be popular. The meal was most enjoyable and much mirth was had as Clive and Trev handed over their room key to a one of the young Asian lads who served us. Mucho calculation ensued regarding splitting the bill but we wouldn’t have it any other way. We ‘settled up’ back at the hotel.
As we strolled back to the hotel hunting for booze a car full of complete strangers hooted and waved. Trev waved back.
No booze! Clive ventured out alone to find supplies and was delighted to find ‘The Beer House’ until it turned out to be a clothes shop. Well, OBVIOUSLY, duh!! Fruitopias had to suffice but Clive spilt his on the carpet.
THURSDAY 19.10.95
We breakfasted at the small, nay, intimate cafe at the side of the hotel before setting off on foot to explore Ottowa. It was only a short walk to the town centre and the weather was superb.
Photos of a few, ornate churches were taken along the way together with scenic views of the city from a handy hill.
St Bridgid’s Church
Notre Dame Cathedral Basilica
National Gallery of Canada
We had a gander at the impressive Parliament buildings. A large group of business men were having a group photo in front of the main building and we were amused to see that one of them looked like The Other Trevor that we all knew. We all did impressions of his laugh. He would have been amused. Probably. We resisted the temptation to stand at the rear of the group pulling faces. Just. Thinking we should take the opportunity to have a look inside we were stopped by a strange woman who gabbled at us in French. On seeing our blank expressions she tried English. Joy assumed that she was trying to sell us something and attempted to carry on inside. It transpired that if we wanted to explore inside we would have to pay and go on a guided tour. Bugger soldiers for a game of this, we thought, and buggered off to see the Stray Cats of Parliament Hill.
Centennial Flame
We made our way into the town centre where Trev was rather disorientated to see black Austin cabs and red Routemaster buses (ala Londres). Much exchanging of money took place: Trev and Clive had a bank together; Linda did the Post Office whilst Joy sat down and rested on her laurels. Like Status Quo we reformed and found a shopping mall which we ‘did’ before heading downstairs to the cafeteria. After making use of the toilets we decided to separate and be free spirits doing our own thing… then we changed our minds: Joy returned to the hotel whilst the others explored the Canadian Museum of Civilisation. This was not without incident as we discovered that today was ‘early closing’ due to a banquet which would be taking place later. This explained the red carpet being laid in the entrance hall. Lucky red carpet.
We took in much art and carvings from the Ennuit people on the ground floor whilst, upstairs, we travelled through the entire history of Canada and ended with a history of hats, no really, we did and there was a stunning collection to try on. Clive oozed sex appeal in a straw number with a feather whilst Trev cut a dash in a multicoloured knitted one. Joy, you should have been there…
By now we were peckish again and were floppy of lower lip to find that the Museum’s cafe was closed. Instead we were directed to a delightful little place called ‘La Maison’. Upon our arrival Clive bravely requested “une table pour trois” although we were not exactly sure if that was the right answer to the question we had been asked as we entered. Anyway, it was certainly more accurate than “combien de stylo avez vous?” which would have been our second choice. Fully filled we made our way back over the ‘Wailing Bridge’, so called because that’s the noise the traffic made going over it.
We returned to the hotel to find that Joy was out but had left her room key with reception and Linda had much fun trying to persuade the guy on the front desk to pass it over. Joy arrived back shortly after and we refreshed ourselves whilst discussing our movements for the evening ahead. Joy and Linda declined the offer of taking Clive and Trev’s smalls to the local launderette and elected to try another Indian restaurant instead. It was a choice between the Sitar or the Mukut. We chose the former as the latter sounded like “muck hut”.
The menu turned out to be exactly the same as that in the restaurant we frequented last night only the stains were different. The waiter was very helpful and made several suggestions which we duly ignored. Trev had a large bowl of Sag Aloo (spinach and potato) which he had only ever had before as a starter. Clive beveraged on Indian Kingfisher beer. It was just like the American beer: piss-water. We had our usual excitement working out the bill and wondered if there had been a mistake.
Onto our next venue which had been picked from the local ‘tourist information’ leaflet. T’was an Irish pub offering Celtic music. We arrived an hour before the band started and the place was completely empty. A round was purchased with our remaining Canadian dollars. It was $17 and which surprised us but we can’t remember if that was ‘pleasantly’ or otherwise. The atmosphere was not exactly inviting: the tv was showing sport; the jukebox was playing ‘country and western’ and the two-man band was tuning up.
The band decided to “start early so you can leave early, ha ha!”. In fact, fewer people could empty a pub as fast as this duo. We were the only people left in the place and were not at all impressed with the music which was about as Celtic as the Goombay Dance Band. T’was time for a sharp exit. We made a loud and dramatic show of looking at our watches, being shocked (“blimey, is that the time?!”). Joy took her big bottle of Bud with her. We left the band to entertain the bar staff and the two Goths that they had probably brought with them.
We hunted for another Irish pub that had been mentioned in the guide and became concerned that the dark streets suddenly began to resemble Tilehurst and Southcote back in Reading. The ‘Heart and Crown’ was the pub in question. We entered to find it as full as a very full thing with no room in it but the Celtic tunes made up for it. A band was obviously due to appear judging by the small stage that had been erected by the window.
Finding spare barstools at the back of the establishment we made ourselves comfy. It was but a matter of moments before Joy’s big Bud was spotted and escorted from the premises. Clive spotted a vacant couple of tables which we descended upon like Scud missiles from the skies. For some reason one of the bar staff immediately removed one of the tables.
The band turned out to be one geezer, a keyboard and an accordion and was really rather good. There was an old fellow dancing a jig down at the front where he was joined by three young guys who had been sitting at the table adjacent to ours.
Trev had made eye contact with a rather sweet Celtic looking gal and, as he stood at the bar waiting to be served by ‘Silver Fox’ (as we had named the prematurely grey barman) he felt a finger prod him between the shoulder blades. He turned to find it was the aforementioned lady.
“So where in Ireland are you from?” she asked.
“Actually, i’m from London” Trev replied
The girl’s face dropped: “But your hair..!”
“My great, grandmother was Irish” answered Trev.
Too late. The girl turned on her heels and went back from whence she came. Trev returned to his seat where he was latched onto by the three Irish lads on the next table who tried to teach him an Irish folk song with three verses. Bless ’em. Friendly folk.
The singer took a couple of breaks and we waited for the final set consuming more alcohol apart from Linda who was abstaining. We were all tired but the atmosphere was great with much singing and foot tapping. We particularly enjoyed the rendition of The Proclaimers’ ‘500 Miles’.
The old guy who had been dancing earlier came and engaged in verbal intercourse with us. His name was Ray and he explained that he was eighth generation Irish. Well, excuse us, but we think that makes him Canadian! In the interests and peace and international co-operation we all bit our tongues.
Eventually we made our way back to the hotel. It was very late and we were all very tired. Trev was very merry and started the ritual singing of ‘Super Trouper’ in the streets and was heartily accompanied by Joy and Clive. Linda declined the singing. She chose the walk back to be at one with herself as she was cold and tired and wanted her nice, warm bed. In his defence Trev would like to say that it wasn’t so much that he was merry but that Linda was the only one stone-cold sober.
FRIDAY 20.10.95
The boys were up with the cock. Well it’s quite common you know. Both felt surprisingly co-ordinated after the excesses of the night before. After the usual excessive politeness about who would use the bog and shower first, Clive slinked into the bathroom (dodging the freshly washed smalls hanging from every available hanging thing) whilst Trev reclined seductively upon his bed with his hotel guidebook in one hand and the phone in the other in order to book the next accommodation. The woman he was through to had spoken to him before and recognised his accent.
As they engaged in casual banter Trev was suddenly overwhelmed by nausea and the feeling that something was on it’s way up from down-below. Apologising profusely he terminated the call and, desperate for a receptacle to ‘yawn’ into, he grabbed the plastic bag that had previously contained his dirty smalls and was soon staring, once again, at his Sag Aloo.
A freshly scrubbed Clive returned from the shower to find his room-mate apparently being a lazy git and lying on his bed.
“Have you booked the accommodation yet?”, he asked with a furrowed brow. It was then that he saw that Trev had the complexion of a corpse.
Trev’s subsequent bowl movement actually registered on the Richter Scale and he spent some time alternately ‘riding the porcelain bus’ or doing the old ‘Huuuughie Green’ from the other end. Not surprisingly Trev declined breakfast that morning deciding that a second attempt to book accommodation would put less pressure on his innards than food.
Packing up our tribbles in our old kit bag we dragged our luggage down the stairs and paid the bill with our usual aplomb, palaver and Canadian dollars. Clive offered to drive today whilst Trev navigated and wondered if he should trust a burp yet.
Using skill, judgement and sheer good luck we found the correct road out of Ottowa but got stuck in a small jam by the war memorial where the police arrived in important looking cars escorting a couple of bands. We wondered just what was occurring.
Out into the clear sunny day with it’s blue skies and beautiful scenery. We relaxed to Trev’s ‘relaxation tape’ which was very soothing especially when accompanied, at regular intervals, by Clive’s sneezing.
We were heading towards Kingston. Trev let loose the mother of all belches and, despite some minor structural damage to the car, all was now right with the world. He was now very hungry…
13:30
Pit stop for drinks, food and a wee at a service station. As we spotted chipmunks, a cricket and some seagulls Joy experienced much difficulty opening her well-sealed roll.
14:43
Oh oh: it’s clouding over.
16:51
We passed through Whitby. This one didn’t smell of rotting fish.
16:54
We passed through Ajax. “Clean through it” said Clive.
16:11
We entered the outskirts of Toronto.
16:25
From the ‘express way’ that we were travelling on we could see the mighty C. N. Tower. Even though we were in the car we took photos: we were tourists… we made no apologies.
We said tat-ta to Toronto and continued onward to Niagara.
As we passed over Lakes Ontario and Hamilton we were concerned that the weather seemed to be changing for the worse.
17:58
Grimsby: we saw a rainbow.
18:16
‘Sod Outlet’. Pardon??
18:17
A scary, female hitch-hiker waited by the roadside and stared at us as we came off at a junction that we shouldn’t have.
18:27
We entered the Time Tunnel. Ok, so it was just an ordinary tunnel but that’s not very exciting is it?
19:30
We located the Econolodge that was our new base, checked in and were pissed orf to find that, once again, there was no lift.
We left the Motel and ventured out into the rain in search of sustenance. We decided on Buzzy’s Italian Cuisine where we all enjoyed a hearty meal. Crossing the busy dual-carriageway in the pouring rain on our return was a bit hair-raising to say the least.
SATURDAY 21.10.95
Cloudy and wet.
Breakfast was had by all at ‘The Homestead’ which was adjacent to the motel. Trev had French Toast but remembered he didn’t like it once it arrived. Still, waste not, want not. Linda had to ask twice for hot chocolate and toast. On the second occasion she asked the response was;
“Nothing to eat?”
“Erm”, began Linda, “the toast?”
We loaded up the car and drove the four miles to Niagara Falls where we parked. Walking through the park towards the Falls more squirrels were photographed. The water in the river was running very-quite-fast indeed: Linda and Trev, the non-aquatic Farties, were nervous.
We arrived at the tourist entrance to find that it was 50c to get in and $7.95 for the boat trip on the Maid Of The Mist IV. We were first in the queue and noticed with amusement the innumerable tourists all having their photos taken but never smiling for the camera.
Boarding the boat we were handed our fetching blue, plastic, see-through ponchos and positioned ourselves on the top deck. Dripping with primal sex-appeal (and rainwater) we took lots of photos of each other as we looked so daft. As the boat sailed towards the Falls it was just not possible to take many photos as it was too wet to see out from under our ponchos let alone see through the viewfinders. Those parts of our anatomy not covered by the ponchos (feet, bottom of jeans etc) got very wet.
Squelchily we disembarked and wandered around the equally wet lower regions of the Falls before making our way to the nearest, warm, souvenir shop for hot chocolate and teas. We were not impressed with the souvenirs and we had examined a lot in our time. Oh yes.
Trev suspected that his compact camera was full of water and headed for the public loos in the park where he hoped to expose neither himself nor the film. Ensconced in one of the cubicles he discretely opened the back of the camera to investigate the damage. Standing at the urinals Clive could here various, flowery expletives together with comments such as “… it’s running down my fingers” followed by sounds of shutter and automatic wind-on as thought the Ginger One was taking photos of himself. Trev’s fears were confirmed: the film was ruined (fortunately he’d only taken a few shots on it) and the camera seemed terminally buggered.
Joy confessed that she and Linda had acquired a lot of soap and shampoo from the various motels and hotels we had stayed in. Clive admitted to a collection of ‘Yellow Pages’ and ‘Gideons Bible’s. “Am I nicking the wrong stuff?” he asked.
Next stop was a shopping centre with some interesting fountains. We split up again and gave the shops a good going-over. Joy brought a Stetson after some financial consultation with Mr Thomas Cook Esq.
14:15
Back to the Fartmobile
15:17
We saw the town of Buffalo because we went the wrong way. Of course it wasn’t really the wrong way: it was just not the way we expected.
16:19
We passed a caravan towing a car.
16:25
We stopped for petrol. Joy could contain herself no longer and emptied out ‘Dunkin’ Donuts’. Let Joy be uncontained.
16:37
We left the ‘interstate’ and paid the troll. Toll even.
16:48
We passed a sign for Mr Morris. Once again we laughed. We must stop doing that or it’ll give us crows feet.
17:03
Shock! Horror! Scandal! Clive declined one of Joy’s sweets!
18:00
Sign: “Painted Post”. With mounting excitement we wondered just what colour it would be. The scenery was now stunning with the hills and trees all different colours in the sunshine.
18:32
Darkness Fell… “ARSE! Who put that there?”
18:47
Ellis Creek! He tried but was unable.
19:30
Binghamtown! These New Englanders must obviously have heard of The Four Farties judging by the way they keep naming places after us. We found Front Street and there was a lot of it: Binghamtown has a lot of front. Finding the hotel we pulled up sharply in the car park almost ram-raiding a window in the process. A lady peeped around the curtains so we waved at her. Making our way to our rooms Linda collided with an open door which promptly slid shut. We made much noise rolling our baggage along the corridor that the previously observed ‘curtain twitcher’ popped her head out of her door. We waved at her again.
Now the first order of settling into a new room is to turn the tele on and the girls found 70’s heart-throb David Cassidy hosting a pukka documentary about Abba who he insisted on calling “Arbour”. Linda immediately phoned the Fart-throbs to tell them but Trev and Clive had already found it, phoned the girls to tell them but got the wrong number. They probably got through to the ‘curtain twitcher’.
This is one ABBA photo we never tried to replicate. We could never get a roll of baking-foil long or wide enough.
20:30
Apre Abba we set off in search of food. Trev and Linda followed Clive and Joy who seemed to know where they were going. They were heading for the Spot Diner and very nice it was too with lots of choice on the menu and an utter bless-poppet of a waitress. After an enormously satisfying meal we decided to have pudding as well. They were HEFTLY HUGE and Trev could not even begin to attempt his. Joy had a doggy bag for tomorrow’s lunch so Trev’s pudding went into it along with some of Linda’s for company.
Linda retired early whilst the others totally failed to find a pub. The girls would like to put on record that their bathroom decor at the hotel was orange tiles with a pink floor. Yeuch!
SUNDAY 22.10.95
Breakfast in a proper breakfast room but, this time, we can’t get to the food! We were treated to the spectacle of a large woman belching. After finally procuring some nosh we paid our bills and left traversing New York State and a couple more toll booths.
12:45
Massachusetts: another toll booth and into the Berkshires.
13:00
We stopped at a handy Burger King for lunch and petrol. Trev brought the place to a standstill by asking for a Spicy Bean Burger as he was wont to do back in Blighty. No one serving had a clue what he was on about and he had to make do with chips and an apple. He could imagine the staff going home and explaining to their nearest and dearest; “… and this guy wanted a burger made of BEANS… with no MEAT!” We continued the long journey in the clear sunshine admiring the many colours of the trees.
15:45
Worcester Econolodge located without any problems. We were on the second floor again without a lift. Unpacked and settled in Joy set about washing her smalls to find that there was no plug for the sink. Linda phoned the front-desk and, after making two trips downstairs, procured the keys to another room. There was no plug in this one either. She left a note at the front-desk for the maintenance man.
Her suspicions aroused, Linda checked the towels which looked like someone had been wiping their bum on them. Linda complained and got replacement towels from an adjoining room.
We left the Econolodge to explore the town centre. Clive and Joy found some interesting buildings but our overall opinion was that, despite the recommendations of the travel guide, Worcester was a bit of a hole. We drove back to the hotel and pursued a restaurant on foot. We ended up at Dennys and were served by another poppet of a waiter. Linda and Trev returned to the hotel via a chemist for “items”. Linda had another quiet night in whilst the others went in search of beer and excitement and discussed tomorrow’s movements…
MONDAY 23/10/95
… Trev blocked the loo with his first movement of the day A call was made to the front-desk and a rather peeved looking fellow appeared with a Dalek sucker-arm under his arm. Well, it would have been a sink plunger to anyone but a ‘Doctor Who’ fan.
We had breakfast in the lobby. There was one ‘donut’ between the four of us. Linda and Clive declined so Trev and Joy shared the spoils.
“Have you got a knife?” Joy asked the dolly serving us.
“Sure I can get you a knife… d’ya want one?” came the reply.
They just don’t get it do they??
After breaking her fast Joy ventured forth to the chemist for some new sunglasses as hers had been scratched during the general course of our Fartings. The shop assistant smiled as she approached:
“Hey! I can tell you’re from… where?”
11:14
Barre. We looked for somewhere to brunch as our breakfast had been rather meagre. Joy pointed out that we were standing right in front of ‘Colonel Issac Barre: Restaurant and Bar’. We entered and after a short while Linda coughed loudly to get some attention. The place was empty and it was the waitress’ first day on her own bless her. This didn’t stop Linda mercilessly sending her meal back when it turned out to be wrong.
We wandered around the town square which was yer typical New England type affair. It was very tranquil and beautiful. After visiting the Post Office and taking photos of church we returned to the car and headed towards Atholl along the ‘Mohawk Trail’.
12:52
Atholl.
13:19
Stopped for photos at French King Bridge of the beautiful views.
13:49
Montague… Turners Falls… Millers Falls: all very “awwww” enducing.
14:02
Back over French King Bridge. Massachusetts was definitely our favourite State so far. It was rather like a ‘New England’s Greatest Hits’ if you will.
14:28
Shelburne Falls. No falls. No ice cream. We moved on. Weather was now heftly gorgeous.
15:10
We were in Florida apparently.
15:30
We paused at Eastern Summit Gift Shop for ice-creams and views of the Berkshire Mountains.
16:30
We appeared to have wandered back into New York State. We were flashed by an oncoming motorist and, just around the corner waited a Police car. What a nice man he was for warning us but we were pretty sure we were obeying the speed limits.
20:00
Chicopee. We stopped for a ‘Quicky’. This was the name of the local fast-food cafe. We entered and stood in an imposing line studying the menu on the wall about the counter.
“You can move a bit closer you know” said the young fellow behind said counter. We all put one foot forward in unison and he laughed. He turned out to be a very nice young fellow indeed who had been to the UK and was a big fan of BBC comedy. He told us that he had been born in Worcester but had moved away.
“I’m not surprised” joked Trev.
Baguettes all around. Trev had a 6″ as he didn’t feel he could manage 12″
**leaves a space for you all to insert your own jokes here**
The gals had much trouble with the boggertry: it was firmly locked until the very-nice-young-fellow-indeed provided a key. Much relief all around.
20:46
Trev and Clive conceded that “Joy was right”. Just what about we can’t recall.
Back at the hotel the girls could not get to sleep because the boys were singing and giggling in the next room. The boys were discussing what had become of those television icons of their youth. What is Derek Griffiths doing these days? Chloe Ashcroft? Carol Chell? What of Lionel Murton? Susan Stranks? Mick Robertson? Tony Arthur? Rick Jones and ‘Fingermouse’? In the name of all that is holy, what is Lesley Judd doing?! This discussion was followed by them both doing a stunning rendition of Jacques Brel’s ‘Jacky’ (aka “Cute, In A Stupid Arse Way”) which, in it’s own way knocked Scott Walker and Marc Almond’s versions into a cocked hat.
TUESDAY 24/10/97
Clive was Mr Plop this morning and blocked the loo. It seemed that US bogs were just unable to cope with good, solid, British stools!
Another clear and sunny day and we had a spring in our step as we walked to a nearby ‘Friendlys’ for breakfast. Our poppet of a waitress recognised our accents.
“What are you doing in Worcester? Visting friends? Relatives?”
When we told her, no, we were here on holiday, by choice, she was rendered speechless.
10:30
We hit the road.
10:40
Waiting at some traffic lights a lorry backed with smashed up cars went by.
“Must have come from Boston”, remarked Clive.
11:05
We popped into Wells State Park and looked around. Sitting on the empty and peaceful shores of Walker Pond we took obligatory photos of ourselves in ABBA poses. One went wrong and turned out to be a photo of Linda, Clive, Joy and Trev’s left buttock.
12:19
We arrived at Old Sturbridge Village which was a working museum recreating the ‘old’ New England way of life. We found lots of ducks and geese by the pond and Joy proceeded to feed the critters using the crackers she had left over from breakfast at Barre. We then converged on the Friends Meeting House.
There were various ‘characters’ in full period costume going about their business. In the lawyers office we listened to the history of the building and of the lawyers business. Linda and Trev attempted to ask questions but the guy doing the presentation didn’t appear to understand what we were saying and carried on talking.
After lunch a further wander around was called for and more photos were taken. After visiting the loo Clive wet his pale trousers at the hand basin and had to walk around with an embarrassing damp patch and an embarrassed smile until the sunshine had dried him out.
16:35
After visiting the gift shops we bade farewell to Old Sturbridge following a car the wrong way towards the exit. Of course, there is no ‘wrong way’ for us only a different way.
16:56
New Sturbridge: more photos. We checked out the Halloween souvenirs on display outside the ‘Publick House’ before sat, sitting down outside the ‘Curiosity Shoot’ to discuss our next movements. Trev anticipated that his would be particularly violent.
17:30
We were off again. Once again we all agreed that Joy was right. Once again we couldn’t remember what about.
A very nice meal was had by all in Southbridge Italian Restaurant. Joy got sauce all over her pussy (the feline themed T-shirt if you recall) and Clive unintentionally shared his spaghetti around with his colleagues. He proceeded to drum on the table as an accompaniment to the wailings of the tortured Italian singer coming over the stereo. Trev apologised to the poppet waitress for Clive’s drumming and we all noted that we had enjoyed the service of many a poppet waitress and waiter over the course of the holiday. Apart from Dotty of course..
19:44
Back to the car and back to the hotel. We popped out again for a ‘bucket of Buds’ which were good value at $5.
Clive reckoned that he must have eaten a whole cow and a couple of pigs over the course of the holiday so far. There was basketball and baseball on the tv in the bar and we risked a severe bruising by remarking that they only seemed to play ‘girls’ games in this country like “netball and rounders”.
Back in our rooms Joy forgot where she was and searched for the tv remote control: there wasn’t one in this hotel.
Time for bed. BOING!
WEDNESDAY 25.10.95
It was clear but cold this morning. We walked to the nearby ‘Friendlys’ again for breakfast. We were all looking rather tired.
10:26
We set off through Worcester and headed south on the I495 whilst listening to Trev’s ‘Glam Rock’ tape: we were generally ‘laying it down with our hips swinging out of bounds’.
11:14
Gas stop. Linda apologised profusely and Joy took a photo of a huge, inflatable ‘Ronald McDonald’ across the road.
12:27
Clive had his first sneeze in Cape Cod.
12:45
We arrived at the Holiday Inn, Falmouth. Clive realised that he still had his room key from the last hotel. Oops! We checked into our ground floor rooms and all noticed a squirrel watching us from outside as we went about our business. Getting engrossed in a tv programme we were all 15 minutes late in meeting up.
We set off on foot in what, we hoped, was the direction of the town and paused to cash money at a bank.
By now we were worried that we had gone the wrong, err, I mean, different way again. We asked directions from a complete dolly-babe of a poppet. She admitted that she could tell we were both lost and English from 100 yards away. We weren’t quite sure why she had guessed that we weren’t American. Perhaps because we were actually walking somewhere?? It transpired that we were heading towards the harbour so she duly indicated the way to the town centre and we said our farewells.
After a while Linda suspected that we had taken a wrong turn again so Trev approached a middle age couple sat on a bench for directions. She had severely cropped hair whilst he had a very large moustache. They were very friendly and after furnishing us with directions to the town proceeded to ask us about our travels. The guy expressed a desire to visit London:
“Yeah, I’d love to see Piccadilly Square”.
Trev put him straight.
As we plodded into town a voice called out;
“Do you want a lift?”
It was the complete dolly-babe of a poppet who had given us directions earlier on. We crammed into her huge 4-wheel-drive affair and she drove us through the town and showed us the beach. She offered to take us back into town but we declined as the beach looked particularly gorgeous and deserved to be ‘Farted’. She told us she was a Marine Biologist and we all wondered why we didn’t have interesting jobs like that. We expect that lots of sea-life would be quick to tell us why. Before she left us she gave us the name and address of a small English tea-room on Cape Cod where her teenage daughter and, occasionally, she herself worked. We waved goodbye and said our thanks one last time before venturing onto the beach.
We basked in the sun on a rocky outcrop enjoying the view, the emptiness, the water, the breeze etc. and took lots of photos. Clive was being particularly photogenic as he posed with his trouser-legs rolled up and a knotted handkerchief on his head: ahhh, Brits abroad. Trev being Trev just had to venture out as far as he could along the rocks. Joy joined Clive a’paddling whilst Linda kept her feet well and truly dry.
After much relaxing we walked into the town and partook of an ice-cream on the pavement. We don’t know who dropped it there but it was a shame to waste it. Much purchasing was done in the shops: only Clive showed any restraint.
We collectively watched the sunset from a park and discussed a potential Fartie version of ‘The Good, The Bad And The Slightly Out Of Focus’. We shot from the hip.
There was a chill in the air as we walked back through the town causing many a nipple to be stiffened. Trev thought the chillings were a suitable excuse to purchase a chunky woolly-pully for $25. The face of the South American Sun God now emblazoned on his chest would doubtless deter any potential muggers.
We spotted a very nice looking restaurant on the way back and needed no persuading to enter within. It was one of a chain called ‘Hearth And Kettle’ and was similar to ‘Beefeater’ back home. Trev was stunned to find not just veggie food on the menu but a CHOICE of veggie food. He was delighted as the past couple of weeks he had come close to sending out an urgent S.O.S. to Linda McCartney for some provisions. We all had ‘Boston Beans’ for starters which, although rather sweet, did enable us all to do very convincing renditions of Acker Bilk’s ‘Stranger On The Shore’ in our beds.
THURSDAY 26.10.95
Bright and sunny again. We broke our fast with coffee and cakes. Whilst we munched Clive and Joy revealed to Linda and Trev, who had turned in early last night, that they had sat in the bar discussing the possibility of swapping rooms and wearing each others night clothes to surprise their colleagues in the morning.
We laughed.
10:00
We jammed our stuff into the car boot. Trev’s new jumper had made all the difference causing a major packing problem.
10:14
Clive hummed Village People songs as we passed a macho looking policeman and then a construction worker at some roadworks. He entertained us further with a choice collection of sneezes.
11:00
We arrived at Sandwich and, like Aha several years before, ‘Hunted High And Low’. We were hunting high and low for The Dunbar which was the English tea-room that the dolly-babe of a poppet had told us about yesterday. Trev enquired as to it’s co-ordinates in the local library and we soon found ourselves at the Dunbar Guest House. From there we were sent around the corner and through the privet to the tea room which was full of homely things such as Hob-Nobs, HP Sauce, Cadbury’s chocolate and Earl Grey tea. The owner seemed completely underwhelmed that we had met a member of his staff.
12:10
Back on the road to explore the furthest reaches of Cape Cod. As soon as the car was in motion so to was Trev’s bladder.
12:23
We saw a fox!
13:52
Provincetown. ‘P Town’ as it’s known to it’s most intimate acquaintances is the largest settlement at the end of Cape Cod and sits on the coast with some quaint alleyways, lots of antique shops and lots of gay folk. Rather like Brighton but without your usual English seaside tackiness.
By the time the car pulled into the car park Trev was doubled up trying to contain his water and shot out of the car like bullet from a gun. Pausing briefly to ask the lady in the car park kiosk for directions to the nearest ‘rest room’ he led his chums, quickly, down a quaint passageway. Realising he may well not get as far as the public toilets Trev took relief in a bar that was down the passage. His passing of water was reminiscent of Niagara such was it’s force, loudness and volume. This was all rather embarrassing as the bar was rather quiet, occupied by five or so gentlemen and the door between the bar and the rest room was “waffer theen”. Trev was convinced that the revellers must have heard all that he was about.
Leaving the rest room and trying to feign an air of dignity before his local audience, Trev smiled, said thank you and nodded. Taking in his surroundings Trev realised that this was in all likelihood a bar for gentlemen of a certain persuasion.
When he rejoined his chums he was convinced that they had come to the same conclusion as they were laughing and pointing to a hitherto unseen sign at the entrance to the bar saying “‘Macho Room’ Upstairs”. The girls were insistent that Clive and Trev posed in a butch fashion by the sign.
Trev: “So you realised it was a gay bar then?”
Everyone else: “Sorry?”
It was then that Everyone Else realised that the town had a large gay community. Trev wished Everyone Else had read the guidebook. Trev, it has to be said, has a large gay following. If he turns around sharp enough he often catches sight of him.
There was a distinct lack of ‘proper beach’ from what we could find. Just a sort of pier affair. We looked around the shops and whipped our cameras out when, into view, came a very smart black horse and open carriage making it’s way down the street. Following it’s approach through our viewfinders we, one by one, peered over the top of our cameras, open mouthed, as we saw the carriage contained a couple of macho gents going for the full leather vest, big moustache & studded leather cap look.
16:00
We visited the very tranquil Nauset Beach. We watched the water, played tag, took photos and Joy made a sand-fish.
Plymouth: we walked down to the beach and investigated the ‘Mayflower II’ at Plymouth Rock.
“Isn’t it odd how they have a lot of the same place names here that we have back home”, noted Joy.
“No. That’s why it’s called New England”, sighed Everyone Else.
As we hunted for an eating establishment it seemed that Plymouth closes on a Thursday afternoon. Eventually we found another ‘Hearth And Kettle’ where Clive had to ask for his soup twice and had another toilet experience (“… c’mon… c’mon… C’MON… YES… oh… yes”). We just can’t remember what it was all about now but it amused us at the time so it must have been hysterical. Oh yes. We don’t laugh without good reason you know.
Back in the car we completed the final stage of our drive to Boston and arrived back at the Midtown Hotel without incident. We had the same problem checking in and our rooms seemed curiously larger than when we first stayed. Maybe we’d just got smaller. No, sorry, what a silly thing to say.
FRIDAY 26.10.95
Sunny but cool.
Breakfast saw a welcome return to ‘The Pour House’ where Trev purchased a ‘Pour House’ T-shirt and got a free breakfast into the deal. We returned to the hotel, boarded the car for the last time and set sail for Salem.
It was whilst making our way through Boston that our car became very intimate with a taxi belonging to the Little Stevie Cab Co. Nuff said.
We arrived at Salem, did the shops, broke for coffee and decided to ‘do’ the Witch Museum. There was a long queue but we Percy Veered and sat on the floor listening to the narrative telling appalling tales of persecution, ignorance and bigotry whilst looking at the corresponding mannequins which were beginning to look the worst for wear.
We separated for more shopping adventures. Trevor was intrigued to discover ‘Fanny Pouches’. At first he assumed them to be some sort of manicure set for a lady’s ‘front garden’ but soon realised that they were nothing more interesting that, what we in Blighty call, Bum-Bags. He went on to befriend a generously proportioned ‘Earth Mother’ type lady who ran a New Age shop and wanted to swap jobs with him.
Together again we returned the car to Avis at Logan Airport where we were told;
“That’s is, you can go”.
The thought that perhaps we could disappear without reporting our accident that morning didn’t even begin to speculate about the merest possibility of crossing our minds. As Douglas Adams might have said. We explained all to the woman at the desk and it took Trev a good hour to complete the accident report form. We still had further insurance cover to pay for which seemed to have gone up from $20 to $70. Trev was perturbed, nay, furrowed of brow, to find that this amount seemed to have been debited from his credit card only. He was assured that this was not the case.
Joy realised that she had left her purse in the hire car and a little man was duly dispatched to search for the wayward item. It took a while but Super Mario, for it were he again, returned with Joy’s worldly goods in his hand.
We took the bus to the ‘T’ and the ‘T’ to the market place in Boston where we purchased tickets to see ‘The Amazing Jonathan’ at the ‘Comedy Connection’. Linda had seen him perform on an obscure Channel 4 programme and was convinced that he would raise a titter or two.
After a pizza dinner we were, indeed, thoroughly entertained by the gruesome Jonathan before returning to our hotel bed for the last time.
SATURDAY 28/10/95
We finished our packing and checked out leaving our luggage at the hotel before having a farewell breakfast at ‘The Pour House’. Linda, Joy and Clive decided to buy a T-shirt and have a free breakfast as Trev had done the day before but the waitress denied any knowledge of such an offer. We explained that there had been yesterday but to no avail. Even the manager denied there had been such an offer.
As we left the ‘Pour House’ the Heavens themselves poured down upon us. This was rather unfortunate as Joy and Clive had packed away their waterproofs and umbrellas. Dodging the never-ending downpour we made our way to the ‘T’ and thence to the Aquarium at the harbour where we spent a happy couple of hours looking at the wide variety of sea life at close quarters. They, themselves, had a good oggle at us.
Whilst we were watching dolphin’s perform in the big, indoor pool Clive nudged Trev and said “is that girl over there waving at you?”. Trev peered across the pool to the seating on the other side and, bugger-me-sideways-and-call-me-Enid, but there was one of Trev’s work colleagues, an American lady called Flossie, waving at him like a loon. What a small, small world.
It was still raining when we left the Aquarium and we split up for a final ‘shop till we drop’ to blow our remaining dollars.
Soggy and footsore we collected our luggage and bade farewell to the Midtown Hotel and waited the arrival of our requested taxi. Eventually we realised that it was not going to come and we asked the staff to “geddit sortid!” a.s.a.p.
We had a long, long wait at the airport and there was precious little to do. We were all so very tired, drained, irritable and desperate for a holiday. Oh. After another queue at ‘check-in’ we boarded the plane at about 20:30 and immediately made a forceful request for four seats together. Our request was granted with Linda, Joy and Trev on one side of the gangway and Clive on the other.
Trev was pissed orf as, despite taking Nytol and copious amounts of alcohol he STILL wasn’t tired and his in-flight entertainment wasn’t working AGAIN. There was a Middle Eastern lady with a baby in one of the front seats and she kept standing up and walking around with the baby in her arms and oblivious to the fact that the film that people were trying to watch was being part projected onto her yashmak. Trev got a complementary bottle of champagne from British Airways to make-up for his in-flight entertainment being buggered for the second time.
After dinner we tried desperately to sleep. Only Clive was totally successful and, before we all knew it, it was time for breakfast.
We must have landed around 07:00 BST and duly endured the manic panic and scramble for luggage at the collection point. We were all suffering from sleep deprivation and Trev said farewell to his colleagues in a rather rushed fashion as they hurried to catch their Rail-Air coach back to Reading. It was then that Joy realised that she’d lost her coach ticket.
Trev returned alone to East Acton in a black cab.
At Reading Clive took a taxi back to Woodley whilst Joy picked up her car which she’d left at the Police Station, where she worked, and drove Linda home to Burghfield. Wouldn’t it have been ironic if the car had been nicked?
So there you have it. Our biggest and most ambitious Fart ever. Over.
Was it Shakespeare who said “Farting is such sweet sorrow”?
We were too tired to care.
The Four Farties will return in:
‘THE MAN WITH THE GOLDEN FART’
FOURPLAY 