16 August 2018 (Thursday) - Boingy-Boingy
Last night I posted on an obscure thread on Facebook about the monthly county geocaching meets that I used to attend. I first started going along to these monthly meets regularly in 2013. Back then the format was that a series of caches would go live a day or so before the meet, and on the morning of the meet (usually a Saturday) people would get together at nine or ten o’clock, walk the new series of caches which would end at or near a pub where a mid-day/early afternoon meet up would take place. I would then drink myself silly whilst chatting with friends old and new and eventually "er indoors TM" would drive me and Fudge home.
About a year ago it was suggested the format be re-vamped. Over the last year there has been meets on Sundays as well as Saturdays, and some have been later in the day. Many of which have been on places with very little Tupperware nearby and the focus has moved away from going to actually look for film pots under rocks..
Don’t get me wrong – I’m not knocking the *idea* of change. If you read the posts in the local Facebook group about the matter you’ll see I was one of the main advocates for trying something different. But looking back it strikes me that I used to attend (on average) every other meet but since this change took place I’ve effectively stopped going to the monthly meets. I’ve been to four of the last twelve; the monthly meet-ups seem to be fast becoming “something else I used to do”, and I’ve spoken with several people over the last few weeks who feel the same.
Just before I went to bed last night it was suggested that I asked the local Hunters of Tupperware Facebook group if the new format of monthly meets was working for people, so (finding myself gripped by insomnia at four o;clock this morning) I did so. I then watched an episode of “Orange is the New Black” and went back to bed at half past five.
I slept like a log until Fudge had a woofing fit an hour or so later.
I got up and saw what I’d posted on Facebook had got some replies. (I thought some of them were rather harsh). Having asked the question “is the new format of monthly meet working for people?” I got the distinct impression that it isn’t, but no one really has an idea that will suit everyone (or even more people).
Personally I’d like to go for a walk then meet up with people after *or* have a meet-up then go for a walk. For some obscure reason there seemed to be a serious aversion to doing the hobby for which the meets are about. Oh well… the world will still turn without me, I’m sure.
We got the dogs organized and drove out to Shadoxhurst in the hopes of getting a resuscitation geocache. There was one there that hadn’t had a find logged in over a year. It involved a field puzzle which I was pretty sure I had solved. We found the cache – it was broken and unopenable; nailed to a tree on private land.
We left it and drove out to Kings Wood where we met "My Boy TM" and his tribe. We had a rather good wander round the woods; a shame the forecast rain came when it was supposed to, but you can’t have everything.
We came home and settled the dogs, then met up with "My Boy TM" and his tribe again at Subway for a spot of lunch. I had a rather good wrap; it might have been even better had I been able to understand a word the chap behind the counter was saying. A combination of too loud background music and his mumbling made him all but incomprehensible.
As we scoffed "My Boy TM" suggested we might go to “Flip Out”. With nothing else on the itinerary and having no idea what “Flip Out” was I agreed with idiot enthusiasm.
Have you ever been to “Flip Out”? It’s brilliant – it’s loads and loads and loads of trampolines and you get to boingy-boingy all over the place like a thing possessed. The only bad thing I could really say about the place was that I was realistically forty years too old to be in there, but the nice lady behind the till was happy to let me have a go provided I signed the disclaimer. I signed the disclaimer, put on the special socks (you have to wear the special socks) and within minutes I was boingy-boingy-ing all over the place like a thing possessed. I smacked my left knee several times as I leapt up onto various podiums. I smacked my head rather savagely when I fell over on the trampoline basketball court. I poggered my right nut when I vaulted elegantly (!) onto a vaulting-horse-thingy. I thought my back was going to snap when I catapulted myself into the foam pit. And I felt something give inside my right knee when I thought I was being rather demure and gentle.
I did snigger as I watched the staff; every time I took a tumble (and I took a *lot* of tumbles) they were poised like coiled springs to run out to me, and I could see the relief on their faces every time I heaved myself up.
We had an hour in the place. That was quite enough. We came out to torrential rain, and hurried to McDonalds for McFlurries. We all felt we deserved them. It was a shame "My Boy TM" didn’t get the flavour he wanted; like in Subway the staff in McDonalds seemed to have issues in making themselves understood.
We came home via the Cheapo-Bargains shop and the new Aldi. I was glad the dogs didn’t ask to go for a walk; they could ask all they wanted, I wasn’t capable of walking to the end of the garden, let alone the two miles round the park.
For some inexplicable reason I can hardly move now and my right knee is extremely painful…