So, you might ask, exactly how did we end up in a field near Guildford, and exactly who were we asking to come and rescue us… well…

Bank Holiday weekend it was, and after Jim finished work on the Sunday we tootled off to Somerset for an evening in the pub. Tootling being the operative word since Rich was driving Jim’s car and being very careful with it indeed. That said, anyone who’s ever had Jim as a passenger in a car knows how bad he is - let alone in his own car going up the motorway.

Jim took over the driving halfway in order to tackle the country roads at a somewhat quicker pace leaving us to arrive in Somerset sometime around teatime. Unfortunately after some driving around it appeared the local publicans were either shut or not serving food. Eventually though after some more country road driving and a near miss with a lost sheep we found one that was open and providing food. Only we decided to pop back to Jim’s and leave the car there in the name of beer consumption before walking the 30 minutes back to the pub down a very large hill.

Dinner was finally served, and very nice it was too. It also appears that all piss taking of Rich aside that Jim was also to be seen drinking Real Ale, although no photographic evidence appears to exist to back this up. Shame.

So by now you may be wondering what the hell we were doing at 10pm walking back up a very steep hill in the middle of Somerset - infact, so were we. Well, let it be explained as simply as possible - we were picking up two Australians (Mat and Mat) and a homosexual randy dog (Dexter) to take to Guildford to meet Jim’s Dad and Mrs Dad who were hiring a narrowboat for a few days. In addition to being a taxi service we were also going to test out our narrowboat skills ready for later in the summer.

Once aboard the “Guildford Regent” we soon set off, passing a narrowboat of old dears (including one with a startling resemblance to what Julie Walters must look and sound like on LSD) - they’d all stopped after twenty minutes for a cup of tea. The first lock was just around the corner and it proved to be somewhat amusing watching 2 australians in shorts and flip flops, standing in the rain, trying to hold 30 tons of boat still. Thankfully though we managed it all pretty well and before we knew it we were plodding through the centre of Guildford. Now, what must also be explained is we weren’t staying on board, we had to get back to Portsmouth. The plan, once we got off, was to find the nearest train station and get a train back. So 3 hours later we called upon our friendly friend, Phil ‘National Rail Enquiries’ Kitchen, who informed us that the nearest station was, er, Guildford - which by our maths was now the better part of 3 hours walk back. Bugger.

With a bit of bribery though, Phil agreed to join us for dinner in Guildford - after which we explained that he would however need to find us first and that we didn’t exactly know where we were. Around half an hour later Phil rang to say he’d found the canal and a lock - which to our delight we knew the location of - we’d passed through it 15 minutes earlier. Phil was soon wandering towards us, whilst in the meantime we were trying to find somewhere to pull over which wasn’t as easy as we thought. Eventaully though (and we mean eventually) we managed an athletic flying jump to the side and headed back to Guildford.

Oh, by the way this is what happens when an Australian neglects to keep hold of their rope…

Messing about in boats? Us? Oh hell yes! Not for a few weeks yet, but it seems we’re all off on holidays this summer. Thanks to the creative genius that is Vince it seems there’ll be a few of us heading North to take command of a vessel for the weekend (yes, that one in the picture). The one burning question, is considering how many pubs are on the route, how the hell are we going to get through the 40 odd locks on it!

Watch this space… eye patch optional

Wise words there from Al Murray, The Pub Landlord in response to Jim asking him if he’d be watching the Eurovision Song Contest…

Anyway, that over and done with let’s get back to the point. Friend of the LowerFlat Alex rang us sometime last December mumbling something about going to see Al Murray sometime next year. We weren’t all too sure exactly when but soon enough the LowerFlat chequebooks were out and we were enrolled.

Somewhere between then and now there have been a few drinks, that funny thing called University to be done, but that didn’t stop us meeting up in Scum… sorry, Southampton. Al and Rich were already ahead of the game and in Yates’ having a couple of drinks when Jim arrived fresh from a day’s work in Poole and joined in. Before too long in the interests of staying awake, and also minimising the fluid intake (what goes in must go out) Jim and Rich progressed onto the Vodka. Heading downwards to Spoons for some munch the heavens opened from the grey clouds above - well, hell, we were in Southampton - its only to be expected.

After feeding time at the zoo we left the pub and went next door to the cash machine for Rich, the only problem was he didn’t have his wallet… or the tickets that were in them. Rich legged it off to the pub whilst a somewhat nervous Jim and Al were left in the bank debating just how many rounds it would take Mr Hutchins to make up for such a monumental balls up. Unfortunately, just as their counting got into triple figures a somewhat relieved Rich turned up and promptly had tickets confiscated from his posession.

Off we toddled up to the Guildhall, where they were kind enough to try and charge some £3.70 for a plastic bottle of beer. Blatant cheek, considering it was *only* £3.20 for a proper pint in one of the other bars. Anyhoo, true to form the Guv’nor took to the stage by the assistance of a motorised bar and proceeded to spend the next couple of hours generally taking the piss rather well and having us all in hysterics - there’s no point in quoting stuff here - just buy the bloody DVD! There were a good few local jokes though:

“You’re from Gosport? Suddenly everybody else thinks you’re a c**t”
“Brother and Sister? The Isle of Wight ferry arrived today then”

The only downside was enduring a 45 minute wait for the last train in the rain, and in Southampton… ah well, you can’t have everything…

The Danish entry’s quite good though…

We’re going out. Yep. You heard. We’re actually going to do something. Next Friday we’re off to see Al Murray (The Pub Landlord) for an a few laughs. We’d love to invite you to, only it’s completely sold out, so for the time being we’ll leave you to occupy yourself with a few insults from the man himself:

http://www.publandlordlive.com/insult-a-mate/

We will of course let you know how it goes, that’s providing we get back from Southampton alive and with none of our bodily organs stolen…

Right kids, well, it’s been a strange few weeks/months here at LowerFlat.com HQ, what with all this academic work and such like we’ve been neglecting our duty to this site, and also to keep the local pub economy afloat.

So, what are we gonna do. Well, firstly… lowerflat.com has been given a bit of an overhaul in the looks department since it’s summer, we’re going to be updating some of the other stuff too - and finally, we’re going to be drinking more.

Thou hast been warned.

Summer is nearly here… there’s kids outside in the street with water bombs, and there’s only one thing Mark and Ross could do… get involved. The whole thing lasted nearly an hour, during which time the windows of the LowerFlat suffered a severe bashing, as did the front door. The only thing was we were clearly outnumbered, and had to call a halt to proceedings halfway through to allow the boys to go and get a few more waterbombs from the co-op.

God we’re mature…