Perranporth surf, Cornwall, October 1997

This was the first major trip of the term – we took two buses to Perranporth in Cornwall, filled with old members, new members and a couple of old gits.

This trip was superbly organised by the President (not that I’m biased or anything) and the buses were ready to leave by 6 p.m. Unfortunately, the first bus got a head start because it took Jamie an hour to drive back to Middle Street and get Kev out of the shower. In the rush to make it to the pub, their bus was photographed by a speed camera on one of the A roads (OK well it was probably someone going the other way – but the ‘Disco Bus’ sign will give the police a bit of a giggle). We arrived at the hut after the first bus to find Neil dribbling into his vodka, and generally being drunkenly obnoxious to everyone (so nothing new there then). Top tip, Neil – not only does Helen Dale date a gorilla, she also has a mean right hook.

We made it on to the surf in good time on the Saturday morning – Joe Lo gave another good lesson on surfing (and another good impression of a wave). The surf was pretty messy but also pretty big out the back, and the wind was strong (i.e. get in at one end of the beach and arrive at the other end a couple of minutes later). Lots of swimmers, including Mr Webb, whose deck-popping excuse is now quite familiar. Several SUCCers decided that canoeing was far too much effort and spent the day body-boarding and building sandcastles. Jo and Kev invested in his ‘n’ hers body boards and spent a blissful day in the surf together.

We were off the surf late in the afternoon, and Christine, Steve and some happy helpers went back to cook dinner while the rest disappered to the tea shop. Herbivore and real chili were followed by a ration of fruit cocktail (about 2 pieces per person) and yummy birthday cake. The washing up was done in record time by eager footie fans, and we were in the pub by 7.30 for the match.

I would report the score here, but I spent the second half on the floor of the pub and had to be taken home soon after. But we enjoyed the usual SUCC Saturday night frolics. Jamie celebrated his 22nd birthday in style by locking himself in the downstairs bathroom and chundering all over the floor. Abellone did one of her disappering acts, only to reappear later having been for a curry. Helen Ford did her bit for club relations by keeping our Cotswolds friends happy. Silly games were enjoyed by all, and the wreckage could still be seen in the morning.

Sunday dawned, and with it a slightly more sober Jamie, whose first task was to clean out his sick bowl so we could put our lunch into it to take to the beach! Ben decided that his wetsuit was just too cold and sandy, and stayed in the hut to do some work (?!?). Surf was better than on the Saturday, although some people still didn’t make it into a boat (Jo B ???). As usual, the sun came out and the wind dropped just as we were leaving.

Back at the boathard in freezing Southampton, someone had stupidly parked their car blocking the bus’s entrance to the boathard, so the trailer arrived back pulled in by all the bus’s passengers.

All in all, a good SUCC weekend – plenty of surf, alcohol, chundering (Jamie), tarting (mentioning no names) and good food ** (if I do say so myself).

** “Hmmm”, says Kev.