Freesteel Blog » Poachers night caving

Poachers night caving

Wednesday, April 27th, 2011 at 11:29 pm Written by:

Last Wednesday the 20th of April was a hard one to organize. Becka arranged to meet some North Wales cavers in the car park near Mold at 6:45pm to go down the second entrance of Milwr Tunnel. I was to go down Poachers Cave nearby with a friend who could give us all a lift but could only leave Liverpool at 6:45 because that’s when his girlfriend finished work.

Result: misery.

Naturally it was all my fault. And now there was no choice but to have two, maybe three cars all driving off at half hour intervals with one passenger each. The cars were also parked in our driveway in front of one another in the wrong order. Look, we don’t need to go. Why don’t we skip it this week and try again later when everyone is in a better mood.

Result: utter horror.

In the end, someone left work early, we beat the rush hour traffic, had a cup of tea at their house, got to the car park on time and went to our respective caves. Ours had a big spider at the far end:

So it all worked out, except for missing the last train back to Liverpool from Bebbington by a couple of minutes, and we had to sleep in somebody’s spare room. Nevertheless, I was feeling very hard done by, having had to take on so much unnecessary aggravation all day when there was actually not going to be a problem. Could I have a Get-Out-Of-Nagging-Free ticket please?

This is a note that I get when I have just been beaten down and it turns out that I shouldn’t have been. Saying sorry, even if it was said, doesn’t take back all that pain.

Later, when I do make a complete cockup of something for real, like I lose our passports in a foreign country, I can deploy this note to forestall the hammering that I would then truly deserve. I have already paid for this. Now let’s be civilized and sort the problem out without making it more miserable than it needs to be.

This was all a 7 o’clock in the morning discussion on our walk to the train station, where we saw a council workman uselessly leafblowing a pile of dust along the length of an otherwise clean pavement.

We got home. Becka went to work and forgot her keys and asked me to pick them up and bring them to her office. I used them to get out of the gate before cycling over, only to discover that there was now only one set of keys in my pocket. The other set, my keys, must have fallen through the hole in the side of my pocket I had been meaning to fix.

They were nowhere to be found. What a horrendous day I had.

They eventually turned up in the bottom of the laundry basket.

My Get-Out-Of-Nagging-Free ticket was well and truly cashed.

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