British politeness
I think Bea has pretty much covered the floods and pant washing, better than I ever could given that I’ve been floating about in Stroud where there is still water in parts.
What I want to draw your attention to is dogging. Again.
Chatting on msn yesterday, we both agreed that we’d probably laugh about Friday nights events…given time, but just now we’ve placed an embargo on any mentioning of it unless drunk. So sit back, let me regale you with what happened via the medium of text.
Firstly I managed to miss not one but two trains back from London. *ahem* I can only blame my awful map reading for failing to notice that I was actually rapidly disappearing off down the central line in completely the wrong direction. Arses. By the time I got to Paddington all hell had broken loose and was informed by herself that some tosser at Swindon had caused a security alert. No trains moved for 2 hours. I had to console myself in the bar, and later with 3 (yes, I’m ashamed to admit it) packets of pickled onion crisps.
Aaaaanyway, after finally arriving home at midnight. On a bus. From Swindon. I tootled off to pick Bea up. She immediately recognised that it was my car outside, due to the fact that I had parked it diagonally into a half space.
Hats were checked, and off we went. You see, this time to make us more prepared we decided the best course of action would be to pretend to be blokes - so how better to pretend to be a bloke? Yes. With a hat. It was a flawless plan.
My little car practically zoomed up the A417 to Birdlip *cough* and we arrived just outside the lookout point. It was time to put the hats on.
Even though it was getting on for 1am at that point, there were still a few cars chipping about, mainly heading off to the carpark themselves wondering why 2 girls had pulled over and were stuffing their long hair under some hats. Probably.
When we arrived it was actually quite busy up there - I think we must have come at prime dogging time. We decided to be brave, and drive slowly past everyone, leer a bit, and then pull up into our own little bay again. Within minutes cars were all driving slowly past us, trying to look into the car. We just sat tight, giggling.
I’d brought some beer for ‘er to drink but it took her a good 10 minutes to open it because I refused to put the interior light on for her to actually locate the bottle opener and then figure out how it worked. Dressed as men we may have been, wanting people to leer at us in the car we were not.
At one point, some very brazen doggers came up and knocked on the car. To be fair, we were already pissing ourselves about something else, so their knocking only caused us more mirth. Much more. I was unable to reply to them anything other than giggling. They soon gave up and went away only to be replaced by someone we called “cock in a box” for some reason. He was very persistent. He kept looking at us, looking at him. He also kept hiding his face as car headlights swept past, as were we. Damn the nearly full moon though for illuminating the area far too well.
Some chavs came up to the bay next to ours and had a number of pisses, and tooted their horns and flashed their lights as if taunting the doggers. They may well have been. They may also have just been stoned.
When things quietened down, Bea realised she was *bursting* for a slash, and so we had to venture out of the car to find a bush. It seems that this didn’t go un-noticed. Upon hearing her peeing, I decided that I too needed a wee so we were both there behind a tree praying that no dodgy geezers were about to jump out on us from anywhere. It was spooky. The hilarity of the situation reached a crescendo, when *someone* had wind. If they hadn’t noticed us there before, the parping and very loud laughing would have given our position away very quickly.
A quick march to the car later, after being accosted by a group of men who were, quite frankly not at all fooled by our disguises, tried to gain an invitation to our car. This was not forthcoming. We decided to take our leave of Birdlip and give one more nearby carpark a try.
Moments later we were in Crikley Hill Country Park. It was much more “intimate” shall we say. One small car park, lots of cars, lots of men in anoraks. Nevertheless, we parked up and were immediately given the once over by aforementioned dirty old men. It was not good - they stood just out of view behind our shoulders.
They were a little unsure about what to make of us, to be honest. I guess they don’t get many girlies up there on their own at that time. One of them (the oldest I think) was appointed as spokesman and came to ask us what we were doing up there. We replied that we were actually there to dog the doggers and this seemed to appease them…although we found out later that they didn’t really get it.
More whispering was done, and then we were told that they (the people in the next car) were about to “put on a show for us”. Ye gods. I’m shuddering as I write this. They were at least our parents age…some of the dodgy old men we commented later could actually *be* our fathers or uncles. This thought was then banned by the thought police for being too hideous.
We wanted to go. Big time. Sat in a carpark at about 2.30am with about 7 dirty old men about to get a “performance” from people very much like our parents was about to push us over the edge. But we stayed!
Yes, that’s right. We stayed to watch old people shagging on a car bonnet, out of politeness.
Oh. My. Lord. The squelching noises I will take to my grave, as they had in fact already “been out” once that night already. The dirty old men kept trying to lure us out of the car, saying that we were perfectly safe, whilst muttering about our tits from a few feet away.
Mercifully, the show was quite short. In fact I heard him apologise to her. We waited what we hoped was a polite amount of time before running the fuck away.
It’s going to take a hell of alot of mind bleach to get rid of that. Needless to say, our curiosity for dogging has been well and truly quenched.
To sum up dogging in a few words: dark, waiting, rain coats, squelchy, and old.
Moosh
Tags: Dogging, Birdlip, Crikley Hill, Dirty old men
