CArL CoX.....what a guy!

The party started with some random DJ's warming up the atmosphere and then they sent in the big gun. CArl Cox played a 4 hour set until 6am, to which i dont think any of us stopped for so much as a breath of air. A proper rave pit although the pit held almost 5000 charged people screaming their lungs blue. The guy knows how to spin a tune...if any DJ was going to convert Gorgeous George into a stark raving mad man, throwing his hands at every little flashing light, side-stepping every little beat and head-banging all the rhythm into the deck of that stadium, it had to be Carl Cox.

GOOD TIMES, GOOD PEOPLE and a little GOOD LUCK WE MADE IT THROUGH THAT PARTY ALIVE!!!

Walking the Lake District

WHAT A WEEKEND...Day 1

I finished work early friday and myself and Mel set off for a 6 hour drive up North to an area know as the Lake District. It stops where Scotland starts. Of all people, of course Fletcher was there. What would any of my outdoor pursuits be without 'Old Fletchful'. From the word go i knew we were in for stiches of laughs and bottles of booze.

Early Saturday morning we were bitch slapped awake by with sleet, snow, rain and any other form of condensed water that makes you wet and cold. This only added to the experience and we loved every second of hypothermia. The Langdale Pikes are what we climbed, crawled...whatever. Amongst these amazing hills of rock and snow stood England's highest mountain, towering beyond sight, hidden by a snow squall. Unfortunately we couldn't get to the top becuase 'storm delayed play' but we were only meters. Instead of leaving our lives in the hands of the 'Mountain Gods' and trying to reach the summit we descended for something far more important than cowboy status.....A PINT OF THE LANGDALE INN's FINEST ALE - Old Peculiar, or as i so wrongly put it after a few...old Curious. Drinking a few of those can make you a man - to be cowboy just add Old Peculiar.














Then the next BIG climb and the Best...

The weather cleared and we were charged for a day on Helvellen. The route was a simple one, up the one ridge called Striding Edge, on top of the most beautiful mountain my eyes have ever seen, down the other side named Squirrel Ridge. Easier said then done as both going up and down, we were slipping all over the place over ice. At one stage i saw Fletch buckle only inch's from a 150m vertical drop and all i could think was..."This is going to Spoil Aunty Liz's day". The walk ended at the foot of the mountain and as we watched the other day climbers scuttle off back down to the little village (Glen Ridding), myself and Fletch cracked open the whiskey, silhoutted by a Lake District sunset and starting setting up the tent. That was the dumbest GREAT idea we've ever had. Short of freezing to death in -15 degree weather we drank a bottle of scotch until our cheecks felt numb, cooked our powder soya BEAN FEAST in half a litre of sherry, sang songs that made no sense and only because our lives depended on it...we hugged.

I recommend that if anyone has the chance, you walk up a mountain. Ive had my fair share of high's but that was by far the best high i have ever had.

NEXT STOP...EVEREST

TiMeS GoNe By

I was flicking through some old photos and felt that some just needed to be on this site.

This photo tells the story of young Michael 'Flop-alot' Fletcher...Always drunk and destined to become a trucker. A million sperm cells and this was the fastest...scary ha!

Another night behind Big John Smiths pub. Notice that its Seymour who was stealing the Amstels...

Cant wait for another reunion like this one!

The funniest moment in my life...Tyson ANTIQUED, need i say more!

Plettenburg bay - Lifesaving 2004/2005