Sunday 22nd April.

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Filed under: Detecting Diary, Training Days — Norfolk Wolf

Well a new venture for me, XP and Garrett training days; letting me loose on the unsuspecting public and having the nerve to tell them how to use their detectors. The idea was put to me and well, if it sounds all right I’ll have a go; got nothing to lose and I might enjoy myself as it’s all to do with metal detecting. Christ! I didn’t know what I had let myself in for; I thought it was just like going along to a club and giving a talk. E-mails, e-mails, e-mails and more bloody e-mails, phone calls, phone calls and more bloody e-mails! I was inundated.

Things started going adrift on the Friday, I had been waiting for the signs (direction for the customers) all week to turn up by courier from Nigel (never tells you what day he will send them); the courier always arrives between 12 and 1pm, so Friday nipped into town at 2.30pm, courier arrived at 3pm and left me a note instead of the signs. Quick panic call to Nigel and he arranges to e-mail them to one of the guys who will be there, (I won’t mention your name Mick) this guy will print them and get them up early on the day. Problem solved.

The other guy who had organised it with farmer couldn’t meet me on the Saturday, so would see him early Sunday. Now, this Bishopton venue is a bit more than a hop and skip from my place, so left in plenty of time. Bombing up the A1m, I called into a service station to stick some more giddy-up juice in the tank; I undid the fuel cap and noticed all this stringy stuff lying in a long line out of my exhaust pipe. It was still coming out of it, I must have pulled another 5 or 6 yards of it when I thought it must be coming out of the exhaust box (muffler to you yanks) and that I had better leave the rest in there and hope it would still do the job it was meant to.

Eventually reach my destination, and pull up in front of the hotel, I think it was a hotel; I’m back home now and still can’t make up my mind. Went to the foyer to sign in and spoke to the bloke behind the desk when I was accosted by this deranged woman of about 130. I couldn’t get the gist of it to begin with, as her false teeth kept sliding around in her mouth (might have been her dead husbands false gnashers for all the good they did).

Christ, all I wanted to do was sign in and she’s asking me, between spitting and sucking if I thought the A1 was a roman road. I’ve no idea who she was! Welcome to the North, they don’t bury the dead up here; they let ‘em loose on unsuspecting strangers at hotels. Give me strength, the receptionist asked me to fill out the form and sign it, which I was doing an admiral job of until I saw the price; it was more than double they quoted me when I booked!! “No” he assured me, “he wasn’t having a laugh”.

Eventually it was sorted in my favour, (it would be nice to write that I bent my spade persuading him, but it didn’t happen.) Up to my room and having to use this bit of plastic to get in the door; get it right first time and they give you an A-level in burglary. Right straight on with the kettle, I was gasping for a cuppa; no electric! No lights, no tele, no tea, no nuffin’. Bloody hell! Phoned down and they informed me that bit of burglar plastic goes in a slot in the wall near the door. (But you can’t put the light on to see the slot)! That’s better a cup of tea with plastic milk. Now what about a nice meal for tonight? “Yes we have a brasserie” the receptionist informed me. I told him I wasn’t interested if he was a cross-dresser or not, could I get something to eat? I went down and ordered duck. Now I can’t be absolutely sure whether it was Buffalo Bill, or Davy Crockett that shot that bird, but it must have been one of ‘em. And another thing, they reckon they were burnt peas under that duck, but I still maintain those round black things were the result of that duck being very frightened.

So to bed to get a good night’s kip, ready for the morning. What with a story like this? I couldn’t turn the heating down and the window opened all of 4 centimetres, last time I looked it was 3.40a.m. Up at 7.30 to refresh myself with a shower and a cup of that plastic milk tea. I find the farm and meet up with the guys, including the one who forgot the signs this morning. (Mick). Anyway, a lot of the people who were coming must have had seconds when they looked at the weather because not all of got there. The ones who did arrive were brilliant and the day turned out to be a real success and I made some new friends in the bargain. What does the Bolton one this weekend hold in store? Hang on to yer hats, ‘cos I am.

John.

It was well worth it, but I’m not paying twice

Lewis & his dad

Marty & Dave

Nev waiting for Nigel to produce the rabbit out of the van