Statistics for the week ending {date}.

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It's been quite an interesting week for the Metties.

After the fuss of all the new people arriving last weekend, things sort of got back to a more even keel as the week wore on.

Monday saw Tom (Fifer), Nick (Tractor Boy), and Mystic drag Bernie the met techy off to the mess for a gin session, and to say the least there were some sore heads around on Tuesday morning when they arrived, mob handed, at work.

Tuesay afternoon saw Fifer take Bernie up Green mountain, for a visit to the Dew Pond. Fifer was well equipped for such a trip in stout boots, but he was in stitches as Bernie, only here for a week's troubleshooting, turned out in training shoes and white socks. On their return to travellers, Bernie realised that the sock's would never be white again, but it was Fifer who was bleeding, claiming that a large piece of wild lava had jumped out from the bushes and bitten him on the shin. A likely story…. I don't think. Maybe it had something to do with the previous evening's beering session. The evening saw most of the crew attend the barbie for Chief Clerk Dave and Pauline at Rudy's basha. It was supposed to be a farewell bash, but due to unforseen problems, Pauline has been forced into enduring a further few days on the island. (Isn't life tough sometimes).

Wednesday started with Bernie being convinced the work he had left would only take an hour or so to complete. But as is usual in these situations, when I left the office at 11 am (it was my day off), he was still hard at work, standing atop the land-rover, replacing some of the bits on our satellite receiver. Poor Bernie, nearly a whole week spent on the island, and not one trip to the beach (He was getting quite paranoid by this time). The Makem, on the other hand, had a very pleasant day, lunching at Reflections with Tommy, then spent the rest of the afternoon catching some rays and snorkelling at Northeast Bay. On returning to TH, a call to the office revealed several very tired metties, so tired that none of them could even be bothered to take a trip to the VC for dinner. The evening saw all the off duty staff gather in the mess for Mystic's farewell drinks, where Cornish spiced up the evening by drinking some of the infamous Chilli Vodka ("Festered on Tyneside" as it says on the bottle). The silence that followed his little drink was quite entertaining, and if Cornish (who claims he was just a little warm) was not reduced to tears, then his eyeballs were sweating profusely. Several bottles of Becks were required before his speech was able to return to anything like normal. I avoided the fire water, but was crazy enough to eat one of the pickled chilli's, which needed copious amounts of gin and tonic to wash it down.
Thursday again had Bernie in the office for some last minute tidying up, before he went off bimbling with Tractor Boy, finally getting onto the beach to soak up some well earned sunshine. The evening saw the departure of Bernie and Mystic for the UK, but not before Mystic had another brush with the long arm of the law in the departure lounge. She was called to account for attempting to smuggle large quantities of rocks off the island without documentation. This news caused loud peals of laughter in the mess bar when Rambling Roger, RMP and Jane recounted the evenings events.
The other entertainment for that evening was Lee's (commcen) hair do. The word "quiff" springs immediately to mind, (the only thing missing for a full DA being the tapering back). I wonder if he was just setting himself up for the fancy dress in the MVC….as Elvis.

Incendiary Ian (the chef) made a half hearted attempt to get to the gym via the bar (he did start on the softies). That plan failed miserably as he was waylaid by Lee and myself, his resolve very quickly disappearing (along with several cans of beer) as we were joined by Bill, Tractor Boy and Paul.
Friday evening saw happy hour in the mess bar, with celebrations going on well into the evening, accompanied by several renditions of some old Dean Martin classics, (many thanks to the Serco management team for that). Towards the end of the night however DJ Bill managed to get the sounds of the sixties playing, with those that were still propping up the bar, murdering some of that decades classic tunes.
Meanwhile up at the MVC the fancy dress party was in full swing, though reports suggest that most people just partied. The movers and the diving exped where the main exceptions, along with Tommy (Mortitia Adams), Emma (Lara Croft) and Donna (Uma Thurman), plus Phil and Brian as the Blues Brothers. Best outfit of the night however had to be Kev's (movers) "Banana-man" .

Saturday saw Fifer and Cornish bimble off to the beach, but that session was cut short by rain, while the Makem spent the whole day recovering from Friday night's excesses. There was also a trimming session by Tommy, removing Lee's quiff (to loud cheers) along with Gary's, Paul's and my own locks (plus a quick trim for herself). She was rather disappointed though that Paul would not let her trim his chest hair or his sideburns.

The following is the second in a series of GROG reports filed by our roaming correspondent.

The Makem.

GROG REPORT
Or
RAMBLING ROGER'S ADVENTURE WALKS

Throughout the centuries there have been great explorers whose innate curiosity has driven them to go where no man (or woman) has gone before. The Vikings in their open boats discovering America, Marco Polo travelling across Asia to China, David Livingston in Africa searching for the source of the Nile, the list goes on.
In the 1800's in the USA there was of course the adventurers Daniel Boone and Davy Crockett (as played by John Wayne in The Alamo and enshrined in American folklore). All travelled far and wide, across seas and prairies, through forests, over mountains and rivers - all because the country and sights were there.
What has all this got to do with Ascension Island I hear you mutter?
It is with some pride that this correspondent can report that on this small Island there is someone with the vision and courage of the souls named above and who is also a member of the geriatric rambling only group (GROG) to boot. Someone with the natural curiosity to go where others dare not - except maybe the Hash!
I speak of course of Rambling Roger.
Our story really begins when that reject from Celebrity Ready Steady Cook, the unflappable Burning Bernie, revealed he only had one more full day off before returning to the bosom of his family in UK. The GROGS therefore planned a little more sightseeing for him - after all he had brought his ski poles with him in case there was a chance to use them. Thus on a Sunday afternoon, sitting at the terrace bar soaking up the sun after a light lunch lovingly prepared by Incendiary Ian (how can he make the bananas so bland?) the GROG committee met, surrounded by a crowd of two supporters, to discuss the afternoon events.

We must now digress again - not to history this time but animated films - Jungle Book to be precise. Remember the scene of the three vultures sitting in a tree?
First says, "What shall we do?"
Second says, "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
First again "I don't know. What shall we do?
Second again "I don't know. What do you want to do?"
This is repeated a number of times.
The third couldn't care less - just wants a decision.
Word for word this was the GROGS!
During this intense and stimulating discussion the illustrious Scribbling Scribe and his wife, Plucky Pauline (here for the sun and as local mosquito food), sat memorised at the intellectual content of the meeting.
A decision was finally reached! Everyone will get into the transport and destination will be decided on the move.
Scribbly and Plucky, by now virtually moribund with all the excitement generated were asked, "Are you coming with us?" Foolishly they replied, "Yes".
Poor deluded fools. Little did they know what was in store for them.
Dampier's Drip becomes the chosen venue - nothing too strenuous - after all there is a lady guest in the party (not BB but Plucky Pauline for those wondering). What no-one had taken into account was what Rambling Roger had in mind!
Arriving at the site after a pleasant stroll along the track and climbing up onto the tank wall the view was admired by all. Following along the tank wall was easy - someone has cut back the prickly pear and thorn - and what was this - a Hash trail!
Balancing precariously on the wall the GROGS and supplicants continued on their way. Suddenly the wall ended and the only ways was up or back the same way. Bounding forward like an old but supple mountain goat Rambling Roger led the way upward, calling back that the Hash trail led this way.
Ever upwards until, suddenly on top of a ridge of grass terraces, there was no where else to go except along or down - and we had lost the Hash trail!

This is where we return once again to the spirit of the old time adventurers.
"Never return the same way, its boring and there are new lands to cross and sights to see" cried Rambling Roger setting off along the ridge before suddenly turning downwards.
The Rambler had disappeared down what at first appeared to be a near vertical rock face covered with thorn, prickly pear and eucalyptus.
"It's OK, there's a path" came his voice from amongst the profusion of vegetation in the depths of the ravine. This was followed by, "Come and see, the sheep here have got lovely eyes".
Question for the Medical staff - "Do you think he's been on Island too long?"
Standing on the edge and looking down the GROG party stared with wonderment at what Rambling Roger had glibly described as path.
"I've seen better snail tracks," grunted Burning Bernie.
The path consisted of the faintest of scratches on rocks with the odd sheep footprint in the soil between. In places it required getting exactly the right angle of the sun to see the merest of marks. It was pleasing to note however that there was a safety net of prickly pear bushes (or are they trees?) should anyone slip. Oh lucky us!
Carefully lowering themselves over the edge and climbing down backwards, desperately attempting to keep at least one hand and foot in contact with mother earth and not entering the above described safety net proved interesting to say the least. But in the best traditions of GROG culture all made it. In retrospect it would probably have been easier to abseil down!
Suffice to say after what seemed a lifetime the GROG party finally emerged back at Dampier's Drip tank somewhat the worst for wear. Thorns and cactus spikes had all played their part in wounding everyone. Burning Bernie ended with that glazed look of bemusement and wondered how he can possibly make his grandchildren believe it all while Plucky Pauline thought it an adventure especially planned for her.

The funny part about it was that everyone professed to have enjoyed it!

So, if ever you need training for a part in an all action movie join one of Rambling Roger's Adventure Walks. This will inevitably include some form of aerobics and the treading on virgin territory in the best tradition of all great explorers!

The only remaining questions, "Where did the Hash Trail actually go and where did it come down to return to civilisation?"