A fellow member has just triggered a memory of a very scary place I ventured to as a trainee sales rep in my yoof. I had to visit the Bacofoil factory in Silvertown, London and happened to emerge at the same time as the lunchtime whistle went at the neighbouring Tate & Layle plant. Hordes of women came teeming out and the catcalls and comments I got when they saw me made me run for cover to a telephone box where I pretended to make a phone call until most of them had gone. Builders/brickies etc wolf whistling ladies had nothing on that lot I can assure you! :-[
Please remember if you post a reply that an NGF member might live where you had your experience so please keep this light hearted.
Most scariest place ,were the bottom was going 5p- 50p ,has to be the tax office when i was called in for an audit.
Early 70s, Saturday afternoon, London Underground train, fairly empty... until dozens of Chelsea supporters got on board. I can only assume they had lost. I bailed out at the next station.
Chris
Broken down on the M25 due to an electrical fault, in the rain, at night, with no lights and heavy traffic
Quote from: themadhippy on January 29, 2017, 01:18:35 PM
Most scariest place ,were the bottom was going 5p- 50p ,has to be the tax office when i was called in for an audit.
I've heard of sixpence-shilling. 50p is a strange shape - the tax office must have been super-scary!
Scariest place I've ever been was Patchway Tunnel (between Newport and Bristol) at 2am. I was working the previous evenings Swansea Burrows Sdg/Fords Bridgend to Dagenham Dock with 47125 when approaching Patchway Tunnel the engine blew up, literally. It threw a piston through the side of the block. Anyway I stopped just before entering the tunnel itself and after contacting the signalman I was told an assisting engine was being sent out from Barton Hill, Bristol.
This meant I had to walk through the tunnel to the east end before putting my detonators down. I was on my own as this train was a driver only operated train, so off I went into the darkness with my lamp and detonators. After a few minutes I turned around and couldn't see anything behind me, the locomotive was lost in the darkness and that got me thinking, what if my battery dies or the bulb blows. So, I turned the lamp off. HOLY COW...... I couldn't see anything, NOTHING..... I would have to walk on uneven ballast in a wet tunnel in TOTAL darkness with just the feel of a dirty dusty wall to help guide me. I turned my lamp back on and swiftly made my way forward hoping the lamp would hold up.
The ironic part to this story is that when the assisting locomotive came it was 47474 and I had problems it the week before. I said to the Bristol driver I hope this can move this train, it was as weak as a kitten last week, in fact I wrote it up in the repair book. The entry was still there and they had supposedly fixed it. Well, they hadn't, on the climbing grade it was unable to start the train. So, after discussing the plan with the Bristol driver and the signalman it was decided he would return to Barton Hill for another locomotive. I would secure the train and uncouple 47474 and he would drop me off at Patchway station with my detonators to await his return. After I uncoupled he misunderstood and took off for Bristol leaving me behind. Worse thing was I had put my bag with all my belongings on 47474......
I called the signalman to explain and to have him inform the driver to bring my bag back with him and the signalman told me a MOM (movements Operation Manager) was making his way to my location. He showed up and drove me in his van to Patchway so at least I didn't have to walk that tunnel again. What a night that was.
Jamie
No question, it was in 1982 on my first ever trip to the Lake District, on a first ever foray onto the Fells. It was the second day of an ambitious backpacking tour with my first wife, having spent the night camped on a mountain top at around 2000 feet altitude.
The weather had set in the previous evening and we awoke to thick cloud and light rain with visibility extremely limited. Packing our gear we descended to a road pass and, determined not to be defeated by mere clouds, we set off up the steep slopes ahead of us, our intention being to join a long winding mountain ridge.
We soon reached the crest of the rising ridge as it swung southward to our right, the grassy slopes we had ascended now curtailed abruptly by near vertical craggy cliffs. Turning right along this precipitous edge, we soon discovered that the gentle breeze from the west that had failed to disperse any of the thick and clinging cloud that had enveloped us all morning, was gradually increasing in intensity.
As we steadily gained height, conscious of the dark unknown plunging crags to our left, we kept a respectful distance from the edge, seeking security on the grassy fellside. Our determination was soon tested as inexperience combined with unfamiliarity with the terrain and we discovered we had lost the faint path we had been following.
All we knew was that we had to continue almost due south, but despite the wind now rushing up the slope from our right we had drifted increasingly down-slope and features we had studied upon our map and expected to come across were not to be seen. We stopped to take stock as the damp drizzle turned to heavier rain and the wind further increased in force, but studying the map in such conditions was all but impossible.
However, we soon realised our error and pressed on, edging leftward as we ascended, hoping to regain the path. If you have ever walked in fog you will know that dark shadows looming out of the gloom take on a new identity, and here great walls of crag turn out to be minor outcrops, and what at first seem to be broad distinct paths through the grass prove to be no more than shadows and light.
The wind now howled over unseen rocks and whistled loudly through the grass, the large and heavy rucksacks upon our backs beginning to cause our steps to falter as the elements sought to spin us around. Despite carrying sturdy walking poles with which we could reclaim our balance, it was clear that onward progress was very slow, so we decided to seek shelter, poor though it was, against a small outcrop of cold, wet rock.
It was something of a performance but we managed to struggle into a large 'survival bag' - a euphemism for a simple heavy grade large orange plastic bag - and were thankful for its comfort from now torrential rain and stinging wind.
Half an hour later the rain had eased, we were cold and rather miserable, and the wind was screaming like a banshee. I don't mind admitting my nerves were fraying and dark imaginings began to grip my mind.
Another half hour passed and we resolved to press on. In hindsight, and with many years of experience gained on the mountains of Britain and Europe, it was a crazy resolution. But we were young, we were foolish, and we did not wish to fall at this, our first challenge in the mountains. So we stowed our shelter, almost losing it to the wind, and headed south.
Within moments our mistake was clear. The wind was now a howling gale and as we stepped out of the comparative shelter of the rocks I was immediately knocked to the ground by the sheer force of the wind. My wife soon followed my example. We struggled to out feet, braced against out walking poles, but every step forward became an involuntary two steps sideways as the blast pushed us up the slope. Reaching my pole forward it was almost ripped from my hand as it was flung sideways into a horizontal position. At the same time the wind took advantage of my lack of support, took a firm hold upon my rucksack and threw me all of six feet to my left, where I crashed against the ground, struggling for all I was worth to grip on to something, anything, to stop this relentless push towards those menacing crags that I knew were somewhere near, but knew not just where.
My wife was faring better and had regained the shelter of the outcrop. I heard her call as she was upwind of me now, but could not reply, my words thrown, like snowlflakes in a blizzard, far away into the east. I fought my way to her, griping grassy tufts and keeping prone to minimise the effects of the raging wind, and after a few minutes of terror we were back where we had started, though now bruised, battered, and I felt we were trapped, literally caught between a rock and a hard place.
My nerves were ragged, but my wife was my anchor, and after we had taken water and food, she took control and we headed down, away from that lurking danger. It was a total surprise and blessed relief to find that after only twenty minutes of battling west and north we reached far calmer air, and were soon back to the point where we had joined the ridge.
From here we headed east down the gentle slope of the ridge. After about half a mile we came out of the clouds and could see our way clearly, romping down steeper slopes to the south into the base of a high valley where we pitched our tent beside a rushing stream, took out our cooking stove and were soon sat laughing at the day with a much needed hot cup of tea.
It was a savage introduction to the mountains, but a salutary one, and without doubt the scariest experience I have ever had. As for the place? Well, I've been back numerous times, and it is a beautiful walk along a fine mountain ridge, but that was usually on fine days when the sun was shining and the wind was a balmy breeze.
Both places whilst working at sea;
Kingston, Jamaica, docks at night. Two lads got beaten up, and we had to escort our two stewardesses back to the ship.
Same ship-I was asked to inspect some repairs to a double bottom tank in dry dock. Very low-about 2'6"- and every 3' or so a deep frame web. Only a small hand torch for lighting. Claustrophobic after the second frame web-I came out a lot quicker than I went in.... ;)
Also, drifting or at anchor off Lagos, Nigeria, at night, when ships all around us were being raided by armed pirates-we eventually started the engine and went much further offshore...........
Martyn
Strewth!
Compared to some of these a few hundred women at Tate & Lyle seem a walk in the park!
I won't go into my experience at Blackpool hospital as it's old hat now - apart from being 1 year on.
One word RHYL :worried: :worried: :worried:
When I was driving for a medical supplies company I had to deliver to a medium to maximum security hospital for the severely disturbed and criminally insane (their description, not mine), and although the poor patients obviously can't help their condition, and nothing untoward happened while I was there, it was the level of security exercised by the carers that made it very scary - gave you the feeling that anything could kick off at ANY moment.
There seemed to be less security when delivering to Norwich prison.
Paul
Quote from: paulprice on January 29, 2017, 05:54:56 PM
One word RHYL :worried: :worried: :worried:
How very enigmatic :hmmm:
Quote from: paulprice on January 29, 2017, 05:54:56 PM
One word RHYL :worried: :worried: :worried:
I suppose if you went to Rhyl Sun Centre and were repeatedly assailed by the eerie disembodied voice crying "Waves in the lagoon pool!" in nasal tones, I could understand. :D
Detroit in the late 80's. Needed an armed security guard to escort you between workplace and your car as muggings / carjackings etc where so common.
Quote from: Westbury on January 29, 2017, 06:25:59 PM
Detroit in the late 80's. Needed an armed security guard to escort you between workplace and your car as muggings / carjackings etc where so common.
Just like RHYL
The scariest place I've ever visited?
Although only 200 yards distant from where I was working, one comes readily to mind The following will be somewhat long, but I can assure you it was very, very real:
I was on duty at a junction signalbox in the centre of a large city, and a train had just brought in a rake of some 40 fully-loaded high-capacity petrol tank wagons. It had left them in the yard and departed for another destination. The tanks were to be uplifted by a local service and taken to a bulk fuel depot elsewhere in the city for unloading.
The time: Around 0230 and no other trains were expected for another hour or so. As one did, I was casually looking out the signalbox window, checking that everything was secure. A glance at the tankers and lo and behold, and at the far end of the rake, a light appeared, then died away. very quickly and darkness returned
Imagination? Nah, a reflection. Ignore it, but then again???
A second look - and there it was again. Oh H_!!
Now bear in mind that I was on my own, nothing around except empty commercial buildings and no nearby houses. Absolutely NO people.
So what to do?? The obvious - go and have a look.
Picking up my torch I went to see what I could find. It was a LONG walk, past a great many tank cars - all far towering far above me above me and potentially all very deadly.
I eventually reached the place where the light had been, to discover a somewhat disconcerting scene
One of the tank cars had developed a hot box (the axle bearing had become overheated at some point on the journey and had set fire to the oil-laden packing which surrounded it. This had been contained within the box itself, but the heat generated had turned the axle box cherry red. It was glowing nicely.
The 'tank' component of the wagon was of rivited construction, and one of the seams was immediately above the axle box. There was evidently a minute fault in the seal and it was weeping petrol - down its side and onto the top of the very hot axle box!
When it reached the axle box the petrol ignited and burnt off, causing the light I had seen from the signal box.
It was quite rythmical really: Weep, run down the side, ignite, burn-off, repeat the cycle etc. etc.
BUT, in addition, there was another difficulty. Due to yard geometry, the tank car had come to rest over the top of a hand-operated point set. These points were lubricated with waste oil and over time this oil had dried-out and accumulated into a type of sludge; sludge which was potentially somewhat volatile, a fact not helped by the presence of numerous dried-out leaves.
I noticed that, every so often, the petrol would NOT burn off, but rather take another path and drop down onto the dried oil. It was forming a nice little puddle!
So what to do? Obviously extinguish the fire, but there were no fire-hoses or water taps any where in the vicinity. No 'local' means of solving the problem at all!
Meanwhile the 'flaring' continued and it could only be a matter of time until...
A long walk back to the 'box gave me time to consider the options; I had to extinguish the fire but what could I use, and where to get the water?
I was aware that some Guards advocated urinating on hotboxes to put them out; but that really didn't seem appropriate in the circumstances - besides which i had relieved myself before walking out of the box 'just in case' No solution there!!
To cut a long a (and terrifying) story very short, The only water available was the slow flow from the tap over the domestic-type sink in Signalbox, while the only water container I could find (also in the 'box) was a small green-enamelled electric jug with a capacity of two litres! With no other option available I used it to carry the water to the fire - 2 litres at a time over a distance of some 200 yards! With such minute weapons does one fight a war...!
Before departing with the first jug full, I wrote some notes detailing what was happening ( I still have them) and started back, the water-filled little green jug in my hand. I now knew how David felt against Goliath...!
Being very aware of the contents of the wagons I was walking past and that there was a distinct chance that I could literally not come back alive should the fire actually became 'serious', I eventually arrived at the site and poured the water over the axle box. It hissed nicely when the first jug of water was poured onto it and gave off lots of steam. One down... The axle box was now slightly less red, but only slightly. back to the 'box for more water and 'repeat until everything was 'out'. It took four very long round trips between the box and the fire to finally put everything out. The 'sludge' in the point was also dampened so that there was no possibility of ignition.
The last walk back to the 'box was done with a slight spring in the step.
And that was that; the problem (literally) extinguished. The tank still wept, but at least the petrol couldn't ignite;
I had survived!
With everything now over, the usual reports were made. The wagon's hot-box was was subsequently repaired and it went on its way. Typically, a 'grateful' management made absolutely no comment about what had occurred.
Although I have had other, somewhat similar experiences over the years, it must be said that, in respect of the 'scariest' place I have ever been, what occurred in that railway yard in the wee small hours of a May morning would have to be high on my list of 'the most scary'. They were the longest two hundred yards I have so far had to walk....
Thank you for taking the time to read this. As I said, it is all true.
I'm a driving instructor which many people feel is a scary job but is actually nothing of the sort.
Nonetheless, when I was a rookie, I had a youngster stall in the fast lane of a dual carriageway whilst overtaking. Long story and not really her fault (the problem was caused by a lorry swerving)and these days I'd be far too experienced to let such a thing happen.
I held my nerve, said "Ok , start us up , into gear and let's move" very calmly as peolple hurtled around us.
Nothing happened and we escaped unharmed but it was pretty scary for a bit.
In a bar in Brighton ordering a round drinks!
In 2015 my oppo's and me had just completed the London to Brighton bike ride for the Heart Foundation. After all the paraphernalia at the finish line we all decide to find a bar and get a beer. I can't remember the name but this particular bar but it overlooked the seafront near the wheel up by the road, it was my round so whilst leaning on the bar waiting to get served I looked around and noticed this big guy standing near me wearing a T shirt with "I LIKE BEARS" printed on it. I didn't twig at first but the penny dropped noticing there were no gals in this packed out bar!
Anyway when the round was eventually served and placed on a tray the bar tender hurriedly placed the change in my palm, of which a couple of coins fell out of my palm and dropped on the floor. To my recollection I am certain to this day one of them was a £2 coin but there was no way I was going to pick it up! :worried:
Our house, when SWMBO has a strop on!!!!
Or the driveway to the Norton House Hotel, where it passes under the railway, not far from Ratho station.
Let me explain.
While returning to said hotel after midnight, I headed up the drive from the A8. It's narrow and tree lined, it's not lit either except for a very few lamps here and there.
Just as I got to the railway bridge, I saw a dark van with no lights on just under the bridge blocking the road. I slowed down and stopped just before the bridge.
As soon as I stopped another car with no lights on drove out of it's hiding place and blocked me from the back.
Then a dark figure got out of the car and walked towards my car. I locked all my doors and tried hard not to embarrass myself.
As this guy got closer he switched on a torch so I could see even less, except of course for the 2 people who had got out of the van in front and were headed my way..............
To be continued
John P
In the manoeuvring room of a nuclear hunter killer submarine dived in the Med. When the reactor compartment bilge alarm goes off followed by the reactor compartment flood alarm, then the reactor went into auto-shutdown mode (SCRAM) causing loss of main engines and the need for a emergency surface on the emergency propulsion motor. Needless to say there were a lot of happy faces when we got to the surface.
Wigan on the saturday night after the 2014 model railway exhibition :-\
Ooops, sorry Davieb!! ;D
Actually, I had quite a good night.
When I was first married I had take an extra job as a mobile security guard, the scariest assignment I had was to check on certain parts of London Zoo.
Obviously this was at night, you couldn't drive round and had to patrol on foot and of course there were no lights.
Luckily I didn't have to face an escaped animal as a colleague did, but it was always a possibility and I can still remember some of the eerie noises and the smells.
Ray
Quote from: REGP on January 29, 2017, 11:15:36 PM
the scariest assignment I had was to check on certain parts of London Zoo.
Me too; I often worked late at a facility next to the wolf's enclosure. Leaving on a winter's night with them howling at me was most disconcerting!! Brian
Kiwi
It seems to me that the wolves were either (1) Singing to you a fond farewell to send you on your way; or having a very vocal discussion as to your worth as the main course at the next meal... (What you can't understand, you can't worry about).
That you are able to post here would indicate that the latter wan't necessarily the case...
Rudyard Kipling has a LOT to answer for...
Iraq. It was great, right up until I got a call saying,"Get out, there is something about to happen." I can't say who the call came from but it was an official one. It was difficult coz I had not been the only one to get the warning and flights were packed. I did get out, three days before the Kuwait thing started that led to Desert Storm. Two of my colleagues didn't make it and were held there for 18 months.
As part of a qualification I had the 'joy' of visiting HMP Frankland. We specifically were looking at their education block.
The Deputy Governor did an introductory piece to our small group in which he mentioned the kind of people we'd meet. (This was the 1980s.) Gaddafi terrorists, Irish terrorists, murders and rapist would all be in the group we spoke to.
Funnily enough when we spoke to these guys, none of them had ever broken the law! All were locked up unjustly and the very thought of the staff having to use to panic buttons prominent mounted around the teaching areas was plain silly.
The whole experience was very sobering and the relief in our group at the end of the visit when we were outside in the visitors car park was palpable. I've never been so pleased to leave anywhere since.
Hitch hiking from Egypt through Jordan, Syria and Lebanon to get the ferry from Cyprus to Haifa in Israel to get back to the Kibbutz I was working on on the Golan Heights (right on the Syrian / Lebanese border) at the time of the Camp David talks in the mid 80's. It took me three months and I was scared :poop: less pretty much all the time. Lots of volatile people with guns and not particularly friendly towards Westerners.
[mod]Please refrain from swearing on the forum, we like to keep it family-friendly[/mod]
180 ft up a transmitter mast at Tacolneston. Sleet coming upwards at you. Hands frozen, gloves soaking and trying to climb down. Took me longer to climb down than it did in the calm before the storm. All for the sake of a Noel Edmond's Swap shop TV programme.
I'm surprised no one has pinpointed the NGF meet up at TINGS yet :laugh3:
Two of the scariest places on the planet - Lennon's Bar in Liverpool and San Bernardino CA.
I visited the former back in about 1997, whilst a few of us were visiting a friend at Liverpool Uni. I wasn't too sure when we went in, a gut feeling multiplied a thousand-fold when I saw a mural of St John and Yoko; with a fist-sized hole where her head should have been. Being Sussex born and bred (and the most southern of the lot), I had the wherewithal to let one of my colleagues do the ordering (which itself was barely above an audible mutter), and keep my trap shut. The menacing glares from some of the locals at four not-from-around-here lads, started to build to open hostility when one member of our party opened their mouths to confirm the suspicion that we were not Merseysiders. Those were the days I could neck a pint in a few seconds and I was out of there; reckoning I would be safer on the street than in there.
I mentioned this to Mrs Dreyfus (who had also been a student in Liverpool) a year or so later, who marvelled how I managed to get out in one piece.
The former was last year, when driving across the US. For the most-part it was an adventure - only rough planning to get use a couple of thousand of miles across the country. Our last night on the road was in San Bernardino. Problem 1 was finding accommodation - which we finally managed at a Rodeway Inn, problem two was finding food. Dinner was solved by Arby's, but we decided to take it back to the hotel as the atmosphere in the fast-food joint wasn't great. Getting back to the hotel, it was clear that the majority of the guests were nothing of the sort - they were residents; a few of them gathering around the soda machine at the end of the balcony walkway (clearly the only thing of interest in the whole area). As dusk turned to night, there were shouts from across the complex. Then came the sirens, then came the gunfire, probably only a couple of blocks away :goggleeyes:
:poop: we thought - for I was there with my wife, whilst our travelling companion was next door. Are we going to be murdered in our beds? I don't know if the police helicopters which were now sweeping overhead added to the anxiety or gave us reassurance.
Needless to say, it was not a restful night - and the three of us were out of there like a scalded cat before 6am.
I am not sure if San Bernardino has a tourist board, but based on my experience unless the are encouraging SAS training, they have their work cut out. To misquote Bob Troup:
Don't forget Winona (nothing there anyway), Kingman, Barstow and San Barnadino (certainly don't forget it; avoid it like the seven plagues of Egypt (you may have a better chance of surviving them)).
Mrs Dreyfus summed it up perfectly in her review of the hotel in question - 'I give it one star, because at least we got out alive'.
[mod]Swearing on the forum is not allowed whether you replace some letters with '*' or not![/mod]
Quote from: Malc on January 30, 2017, 12:18:40 PM
180 ft up a transmitter mast at Tacolneston. Sleet coming upwards at you. Hands frozen, gloves soaking and trying to climb down. Took me longer to climb down than it did in the calm before the storm. All for the sake of a Noel Edmond's Swap shop TV programme.
Good of you to take the blame Malc. Even if it is a little late!
It was worse when we did the Late late breakfast show!!
OK as my post seems to have garnered no interest, I'm turning it into a competition.
What happened next?
The winner is the most accurate or possibly the most humorous
The prize is a free meal at the Waltzing Kangaroo pie shop near my house.
Regards,
John P
Including air fare/car rental? >:D
Quote from: jpendle on January 30, 2017, 05:31:38 PM
OK as my post seems to have garnered no interest, I'm turning it into a competition.
What happened next?
The winner is the most accurate or possibly the most humorous
The prize is a free meal at the Waltzing Kangaroo pie shop near my house.
Regards,
John P
Quote from: jpendle on January 29, 2017, 10:02:41 PM
Our house, when SWMBO has a strop on!!!!
Or the driveway to the Norton House Hotel, where it passes under the railway, not far from Ratho station.
Let me explain.
While returning to said hotel after midnight, I headed up the drive from the A8. It's narrow and tree lined, it's not lit either except for a very few lamps here and there.
Just as I got to the railway bridge, I saw a dark van with no lights on just under the bridge blocking the road. I slowed down and stopped just before the bridge.
As soon as I stopped another car with no lights on drove out of it's hiding place and blocked me from the back.
Then a dark figure got out of the car and walked towards my car. I locked all my doors and tried hard not to embarrass myself.
As this guy got closer he switched on a torch so I could see even less, except of course for the 2 people who had got out of the van in front and were headed my way..............
To be continued
John P
Okay JP, here's my version of the continuation of your tale..... It was only then that I that my own car lights went out and the engine died. Even the ignition light was gone, and no amount of frantic key turning brought life to lights or engine. Only the beam of the torch behind me threw any light upon the scene now, and even the two guys now just a few short feet from my car had all but merged into the night.
Then that light too went out.
All was in total darkness now and not even the sound of footsteps came to my ears from outside my feeble fortress. A long, unrelenting, agonisingly terrifying silence hung in the air. A minute went by. Two. Then three, the seconds creeping by like the slow drip from a leaking tap. As sweat from my brow began to sting my eyes I gradually became aware of a noise that soon became a deafening, thumping beat as if all the devils in hell were pounding upon my car. In terror I ripped open the glove box, searching in vain for something, anything to use as a weapon to defend myself from........ From what?
At that very moment a shrill whistle and a thunderous roar ripped the air and broke my thought as the night express from Glasgow took the bridge on its way into Waverley.
As the sounds of the train steadily faded, reason returned to my mind and I realised with a nervous laugh that the awful thumping was not the hordes of Satan but merely the frantic rhythmic beating of my own heart.
"Oi! Come on! Get out!" An all too real crash upon the car roof bought an audible cry from my dry mouth. Another thump and the torch light returned brighter than a thousand suns right beside my right ear. Again came the shouted command: "Oi! Come on! Get oot ya bampot!"
Bampot! What sort of villain says "Bampot" to his intended victim, I wondered.
The light went out as suddenly as it had appeared. Voices now murmured all around me, and the darkness was broken by a flash of orange light followed by a small red glow as one of them lit a cigarette. In those brief seconds I caught a glimpse of a round faced man with a thick grey beard and the unmistakable form of a hunting rifle hung over his shoulder.
"Oh my God, they're going to kill me!" came the small and terrified voice inside my brain.
"Don't be stupid!" said the quieter voice of reason and hope, "This is the outskirts of Edinburgh not downtown Chicago in the '20's."
"Precisely!" grinned the first voice.
The conversation ended abruptly as an awful face, illuminated by what I took to be the torch I had first seen, pressed up against my window.
"What on earth are you doing still sitting there?" He shouted in a rather unsettling easy tone. " Come on, the boys are all ready and there's wild Haggis for hunting somewhere around here cos young Jimmy and Big Angus just hit one with their van under the bridge. Burst his tyre he reckons. Just keep quiet, and watch out for Willy cos he's messin' about with that floodlight on his truck. He thinks the wee poor Haggis that Big Angus flattened was blinded by their headlights so he figures we can blind em and then shoot em."
Still nervous, but starting to feel like a complete idiot, I gingerly opened the door and stepped out. The glow from my car's interior light showed a small group of men stood beside a breakdown truck I hadn't noticed just off the road to the left.
"Er....um...look, I ..... er.... well...."
"Who the hell are you?" asked an invisible voice.
"Pendle" I rather foolishly replied, but courage now brightening in my chest. "Pendle" I repeated. "Pendle, John. I'm staying at the Norton, just up there."
"Oh", came the rather deflated reply, "We thought you was Gordy. He's got a car just like yours."
"No" said I.
"Well Pendle John, now we've been introduced, I'm Adam by the way, wanna come Haggis hunting? It's a good night for it."
"Well, yes I would, but I think my car's packed up. It won't start or anything".
"Here, gis a look" said a young man in a grimy boiler suit, who I presumed was Willy, as he pushed past me.
He turned the key and my car engine burst immediately into life as it ever had done.
"What the........"
"Seems fine to me" said Jimmy. "Are you sure you turned it the right way."
We all laughed, and later that morning I had one of the freshest Haggis' I've ever tasted for my breakfast, courtesy of one of the finest bunch of Scots lads I ever had the pleasure of meeting.
This is turning into the Rocky Horror Show.
For me there is nothing more scary than landing in a plane in a thunderstorm at night, "preferably" in a third world country with a dodgy airline.
Bon voyage,
Joe
I've been in a 747 over Chicago O'Hare airport in a thunderstorm when it was hit by lightning. Everyone, including cabin crew, was strapped in but the plane plummeted a little and when the stewardesses screamed I thought we'd had it. there was nearly an escape of :poop:
I forgot to mention the take-offs in windy weather when the plane suddenly drops like a stone for what seems like at least minute before climbing again.
At least it shuts up the noisy neighbour who had too many beers in the departure lounge !
Best regards,
Joe
OK cos he's the only entry and because I doubt he'll be beat, Daffy wins the pie.
So the real answer is that it was the 'polis' searching for an escaped convict.
They advised me to keep all my doors locked and get to the hotel pronto.
BTW anyone who has read a Rebus novel will know that there are some extremely dodgy bits in Edinburgh.
Regards,
John P
Thank you John, I shall look forward to receiving my pie. :D
Hope you enjoyed my tail to your tale, and glad that the seedier side of Edinburgh was avoided by you that night.
Umm, excuse me Jpendie, but I think you're a little bit premature in your 'Winner' declaration!!
Writing such things takes time and if by 'what happened next' you mean what 'Would' have happened if 'remedial' measures / actions were not taken, herewith my contribution.. I would suggest that an explosion of a lot of petrol tankers and the resulting carnage is at least worthy of some sort of consideration, if only in the interest of fairness and fair play.
______________________
Radio New Zealand Bulletin
0600
25 May
'The people of Auckland woke this morning to find that the Newmarket Business District,and the suburbs of Remuera. Mt,. Richmond, and Mt Eden were in flames as a result of a huge explosion with its epicenter at the Newmarket railway yard. Early reports indicate that many commercial buildings in the Newmarket CBD are now piles of rubble .
At least 80 fire appliances are in attendance, with more being called-in from the Waikato and Northland areas. Hospitals have been put on an emergency footing.
It is not known how many were killed as a result of the explosion, but a first estimate puts the death toll at 10. This is likely to increase as further reports are received and daylight reveals the extent of the damage.
The Mayor of Auckland has declared a 'State of Emergency' and the Prime Minister has been advised.
Broadway, Manukau and Remuera roads are currently blocked by the Police and alternative routes have been put in place.
Further bulletins will be posted as information is received, and in the meantime, people are requested to avoid the area if at all possible'.
___________
Radio New Zealand Bulletin
1200
25 May
'Investigations into the cause of the immense explosion which destroyed much of the center of Newmarket and severely damaged the surrounding suburbs this morning have pinpointed the epicenter as being at the Newmarket railway yard. The exact causer is unknown, but the presence of pieces of railway tank cars in the vicinity of the explosion crater lead the investigators to believe that these may have been associated with the explosions. Investigations are continuing.
The New Zealand Fire Service advises that efforts to put out firs in the area adjacent to the site of the explosion are continuing and that a search is being undertaken through the rubble of the Newmarkt CBD in an effort to determine casualty numbers.
The death toll is currently 35, with an unknown number of injuries.
The State of Emergency' is still in place.
The Prime Minister is en-route to Auckland to view the extent of the devestation.
Traffic delays are being experienced, but on the whole traffic numbers have not been affected and road diversions are coping with the traffic flow'.
____________________
Radio New Zealand Bulletin
2300
30 May
'Investigators involved in the recent devastating Newmarket explosion have now determined that the explosion occurred in rake of petrol -filled railway wagons which were standing in the Newmarket railway yard. Each wagon has a capacity of 52000 litres. The wagons had recently arrived from the Marsden Point oil refinery and were in the railway yard prior to being taken to the Auckland bulk-fuel tank farm at Freeman's Bay.
The fires caused by the explosion took three days to extinguish, and the death toll was eventually 37 although some bodies (including that of the Signalman at the Newmarket railway yard) have not been found.
The 'State of Emergency' put in place by the Mayor of Auckland was lifted on 29 May.
In a statement, the Prime Minister (who had previously visited the area and assured those present that all steps would be taken to both catch the culprit and rebuild the devastated Newmarket CBD) said that 'He was pleased at the progress that was being made with the investigation and tht he pledges Government assistance to help rebuild the shattered Newmarket CBD and the houses destroyed in this unprecedented disaster. The Earthquake and war Damage Commission was being given special powers to expedite the recovery'.
__________________________
Radio New Zealand Bulletin
1200
27 June
'The investigators into the recent Newmarket explosion have released their report.
They advise that the cause of the explosion was uncertain, handwritten notes written by the (deceased) Senior Signalman and retrieved from the explosion-demolished Newmarket signalbox indicate that the cause was a fuel leak which ignited after contact with an over-heated axle box on wagon Uca 122. it is believed that this fuel leak ignited in turn set off explosions amongst adjacent tank wagons, the combined effects of which were to flatten may buildings in the Newmarket CBD and cause fires in domestic dwellings in adjacent suburbs.
No blame can be placed on any persons in respect of this incident.
The explosion left 41 people dead and approximately 235 injure and resulted in a State of Emergency being declared.
The cost of the damage is put at 45 million dollars.
The Prime Minister and the mayor of Auckland are scheduled to attend a memorial Service for the victims of the explosion next week'.
The back of an APC as it reversed into a quarry was pretty scary - especially after the drop, pinned under a detached toolbox that weighed about 250lb, and listening to the section commander calling names to see who was still alive. We all made it, but it was a near-run thing.
Glad it wasn't a wet quarry!
Hi @Komata (http://www.ngaugeforum.co.uk/SMFN/index.php?action=profile;u=3204)
I really liked your detailed tale of what might have happened if you had not been so diligent.
However I think you got the wrong end of the stick regards John's pie competition: he was only referring to a fictional conclusion to his own tale that he had started and left unfinished with the words "to be continued".
If you read back through his posts you will see what I mean.
If you're ever in my neck of the woods we can share a pie or two.
Best wishes.