A Moan from a Grumpy Old Geocacher

One of my favourite programs on British TV is called “Grumpy Old Men” or “Grumpy Old Women”. It’s hilarious as well know mature personalities complain about everything in life, from teenagers habits, stupid advertising and life in general. Unfortunately I find myself in the same old age bracket and always seem to  agree with everything that is moaned about.

This leads me on nicely to a great moan about geocaching  and a few new geocachers in particular. Now I appreciate anyone that giving the sport a go in any form, but my real beef is why do new geocachers who have complete just one cache think they are experienced enough to start putting out their own caches out  straight away, without learning some of the pitfalls you can fall into.

Grrrrrrr – I have wasted many an hour looking for new cache only to find out at a later date that it has been hidden incorrectly, a good example being one hidden inside a dry stone wall, not permitted so wouldn't have looked there. I know as soon as I look up the cachers profile that they haven’t done many searches themselves.

I remember making my third visit to a particular cache, having no luck before; on arriving at the cache site I came across two young lads with long poles trying to fish a canister out of a small river. On enquiring what they were up to they turned out to be the cache owners and were trying to retrieve it out of debris caught up in the middle of the river. They had balanced it on a small pipe sticking out the river bank and you had to wade into the water to retrieve, not that I would have attempted that anyway as I'm a land mammal not a fish or a mermaid. Unfortunately they hadn't taken into consideration that after rainfall the river rises and therefore the container had been washed away. I'm pleased to report they got the container back and I grabbed the find before they located a new sensible spot. They did turn out to be good members of the caching community in the end and have put out some very good caches.

We have a particular problem when the schools are on Summer holidays which this year saw one particular junior cacher put 6 new caches out over a few weeks. Three had to be archived straight away as they could not be found, two were nearly 400ft out on the coordinates, corrected 4 times, and the final one was only put right after several of the local geocachers helped the young lad concerned.

Don’t get me wrong here, I love children, well I must do as I have had to put up with three of my own but thankfully they've flown the nest now  – OK,  I’m ashamed to admit I haven’t been able to convert them into geocaching. One’s a Driving Instructor and you know what they say about them, another one likes the finer things in life, gadgets and good holidays,  and my eldest well, although he runs his own graphic design company, he's too busy being a middle aged heavy rocker and plays in several bands, don’t even  start me on that one!!



I own up, that's my boy, where did I go wrong.

So what is this Grumpy Old Geocacher going on about, well why doesn’t Geocaching.com set some goals before allowing newbies to put caches out in the wide world? Perhaps the first hide is only permitted once 25 caches have been found by the person concerned, second hide allowed after 50 caches found and then increased thereafter.

What do my fellow cachers think, have you had any similar experiences, go on have a good moan you know you all want to!!

Oh and it’s -12 degrees C here in Gloucestershire and geocaching has had to be put on the back boiler, just as well as my family would probably have grounded me if I went out, so I have nothing else to do but have a good old moan.

The Mad Geocaching Pensioner - Caching with History.

I have been geocaching since 2009 and have claimed 360 finds, surprisingly the furthest away I have had to travel from home is only 21.759 miles, these geocaching statistics are precious aren't they. This is only a small percentage of what is available in that radius and I live in the countryside. So lets take a look of what I've seen on my travels and the subject I've chosen is HISTORY. Now don't get bored to quickly as it's surprising just what's out there.

Woodchester Park. (GC322D8)  In the last few weeks this place has hit the headlines throughout the UK, with the discovery of deer remains being found that had been mauled by a big cat. Why news you might ask, well in UK we have no dangerous wild animals at all, unless you class farmer Jones after you've trample over his virgin corn field. It's believed to be either a puma or panther but they have taken DNA samples from the deer to confirm their investigations. More recently the remains of another deer has been found along with 3 wallabies from a private park 10 miles away, no this is not Australia.

I actually did this cache last September, walking through the wooded valley on my own. If I had known the possible dangers I might have taken a very large saucer of milk whilst repeatedly chanting "Here pussy, nice pussy".

Woodchester Mansion which is in the centre of the park has a great history being a 19th Century Victorian Gothic Masterpiece mysteriously abandoned mid-construction in 1873. According to legend, Sir Rupert de Lansigny, who also inherited Spring Park after killing his cousin, once owned the estate. Several locals have reported seeing a headless horseman, believed to be Sir Rupert, near one of the park lakes. A coffin has also been observed hovering above one of the estate's lakes, which possibly belonged to a Dominican friar who killed himself by drowning! More recently, February 2004 and September 2005 saw sightings of a black dog inside the mansion itself which appeared to coincide with the deaths of individuals closely associated with the building.

In 1902 a local vicar saw a strange apparition at the gates to the mansion needless to say he never returned to the building again. A few years later a phantom horseman was also seen on the drive dressed in civil war clothing. But it is the Mansion itself that is the epicentre of the haunting. (Pussies & Ghosts and only a short distance from my home, whatever next - geocaching pensioner riding naked through undergrowth).

Minchinhampton Long Stone. (GCVXD9) Parking for this cache is tricky as the stone is opposite the gates to Gatcombe Park, the home of Princess Anne the Queens Daughter. When you park you know that the royal bodyguards have probably got their eyes on you. 

The Long Stone at Hampton Fields near Avening is undoubtedly the best known megalith in the county. It is a rough oolite stone standing about 2.4m tall in an area packed with stones, long barrows, and the site of a former stone circle. It is naturally a rough lozenge-shape, reminiscent of the some of the stones at the Avebury Henge complex. The cache was hiden in the hedgerow just in front of the stone, unfortunatel it took me two visits to find it, that's the cache not the stone. The reason for its fame is the fact that it is pierced by two holes. One of the few holed stones that can still be seen.

Although the holes were created by a natural weathering of the rock, the stone has attracted a number of legends and folktales. People would pass their limbs through the holes to cure themselves of illness. Mothers would even pass their children through the hole to cure them of, or prevent them from getting, rickets, smallpox, whooping cough and "other infantile diseases". I'm not sure about actually passing babies through it, I could hardly get my hand through.

According to legend, when the local church bells strike twelve midnight, the Long Stone and its neighbour, the Tingle Stone, will run around their respective fields. It is also said to make the journey to Minchinhampton to drink from the spring there.

The stone may also be associated with fertility rites. There is evidence that couples would hold hands through the stone and betroth themselves to each other. (I wonder how many men have come home these days and found out they got engaged the night before only to make the mortal words  "My god I must have got stoned out of my mind.")

The Ocean (GC1TJ9J) The spot I always go when I'm feeling a bit stressed, perhaps not these days as the pressures of work are long gone and the pleasures of retirement has started. This is also the place for one of my own cache hides and the wildlife is being appreciated by all who come here. What about the history of this place, well it's actually The Stroudwater Canal, an inland waterway that stretched between the River Severn in the west to the River Thames and London in the east, in fact it slices England in half.

 My place of piece and quiet - beautiful wildlife.

This canal was built between 1775 and 1778 and allowed boats to come up the valleys to where there were hundreds of woollen mills. The Ocean was a place dug out so that boats called Severn Trows could tie-up over  night without blocking passage to other canal boats. The canal had many problems as it climbed the Cotswold hills and pumping stations had to be built to try and maintain water levels, these often failed and the canal was closed at times.

The exact same spot at around 1900

The same farm buildings & swing bridge are still there.

The Canal's plight became worse when control of the canal company fell into the hands of the Great Western Railway who, in the 1890s, sought to close the eastern part of the canal.  The Gloucestershire County Council did reopen the canal at the turn of the century but the levels of trade were insufficient to justify maintenance costs and the last boat traversed the whole canal in 1911. The canal east of Chalford was abandoned in 1927 and the rest in 1933. Today the canal is being restored for pleasure boats but there is still a lot of work to go.

CacheCrazy.Com author BigAl's had his TB sent to me from America and set off on it's travels from here.


(Footnote: Glad I've had a hair cut and lost weight since this photo - HONEST !!)

The Mad Geocaching Pensioner - Muggle Distraction.

Before I start I better explain to non-geocachers what a Muggle is. Whilst out geocaching if you come across a member of the general public that doesn't know about the sport, then they are known as a Muggle or Muggles for a group of them. You don't want them to know what your doing in case they steal or damage the cache. Hence the phrase when you can't find the cache, I think it's been muggled.

In the early days of geocaching you soon learn that you have to avoid "Muggles", or an unwanted  humanoid  as I see them. These are crafty creatures that sneak up without you realising that they are there, some are so devious that I'm sure that they fit silencers to their footwear.

For that reason I prefer to do countryside caches rather than those in towns and city where the herds of muggles congregate near watering holes. Saying that I was once muggled by a muntjac deer who appear just feet away from me as I came out behind a tree with the spoils in my hands. Not sure who was more surprised, but by the time I had got my camera out the deer had scarpered , nobody believes me as I point to the photograph of trees, "It was there I declared", in the same way as the fisherman's tells the story of the big one that got away.

I'm sure the deer was there a second ago.

So lets look at the successful and foolhardy methods that I have used to distract muggles in my pursuit of that elusive cache.

1. The Little White Lie or Fib.  This situation arose when I decided to check out one of my own caches (GC2XHC7) and do some maintenance. I set off on the half mile walk along an old farm track to where there is a bridge straddling  the main railway line that runs south to Bristol, there is also a main line going off to towards London. Just as I was tidying up the container I suddenly heard the sound of a tractor coming along the track, so I stayed calm and sneakily push the box under a bush with my foot as the tractor approached.

Just act all nonchalant I thought and just smile at the farmer whilst giving him a cheery wave as he passed. Horror of horrors the farmer stopped and leaning out of his cab and enquired, "What's yews doing up yer then luv", yes OK he was a typical Gloucestershire yokel and between translating and panicking I just blurted out "Trains-spotting!!!". My brain went into overdrive and I stupidly followed this up with, "Not so good these days as it was with the old steam trains is it", where did I get that from!! His face was a picture as he must have thought I was the local nerd or I had just escaped from a local institution. He just restarted his tractor, which was pulling a muck-spreading machine, and turned into a field nearby. I think my little fib smelt just as bad as the muck he was throwing all over the field.

2. The Actor or The Oscar Award. Only to be attempted in certain situations, for me this happened when a new cache appear in my nearby town. Nobody had yet found it but I was sure I could do better and claim the FTF. When I arrived at GZ it was right in the middle of the main street, right opposite a charity shop (hospice shop) where many people search for those second hand bargains. I didn't want to look conspicuous so started walking up and down with my mobile glued to me ear and at this point my acting really started. I pretended to be in a deep conversation whilst occasional throwing my arms up in despair and glancing at my watch. During this time I was actually searching the ground for a clue to the cache but nothing was found.

I was certain, by now the shop window would be full of people starring at this mad pensioner who had been walking up and down for 15 minutes, and was obviously clever enough to use a mobile phone. I decided it was time to give up and confront the enemy across the road in the shop, well I had to explain what I was doing and how terrible it was that a poor pensioner had been let down with my lift home. (Are you believable me yet).

Crossing the road I burst into the shop like a cowboy entering a saloon, stopping to see all the customers from the doorway. Would you believe it, the shop was completely empty except for the little old lady who was busy dusting a shelf at the back of the shop. My 15 minute Oscar performance was all for no reason and I ended up buying an old set of kitchen scales and a hip flask just to save face with the old lady and not look that stupid at bursting into her shop. By the way, the cache never existed in the first place, it had just been a prank from a school kid with nothing better to do in his holidays. Well at least the hip flask made me a profit on Ebay and the scales is a replacement for the Oscar statuette, a reminder of my acting performance.

3A. The Photographer (Positive). My usual method of fooling muggles and a great record of the caches I've found. On this occasion I had just nabbed a cache at the back of a churchyard (GC1RNP6) on a footbridge over a stream in the country and was making my way back to my car. Coming around the side of the church I was confronted with a wedding party all milling around for the photo shoot and somehow I had to get through this cheerful crowd.

The Happy Couple - Does he not know his troubles have just started !!

Taking out my trusty camera I started shooting the happy couple, side walking like a crab through all these muggles until I was stopped in my tracks as someone took my arm and said, "Oh doesn't Jenny and Tom look beautiful", who the hell was Jenny and Tom I thought but replied, "Love Jenny's dress, I never look like that good in white", well not geocaching in the countryside I said under my breath . I was trapped in conversation with the lady as she asked if she could have a copy of the couple and that she would give me her address at the reception dinner. Think I got away with that one, and I was wearing a hat for the wedding, Lady-Magpies famous geocaching hat.


3B. The Photographer (Negative). What a simple instrument my camera is to get me away from those pesky muggles, easy to use and a good reason to be out alone in the country.  Another small hillside village in the Cotswold was my destination where a cache (GC1Z6WD) had been set up. A footpath went through the churchyard to a gate at the back, the path continued across the village primary school playground before returning to the lane on the far side. Now I knew the rules don't permit caches being placed in churchyards so it had to be in the wall between the play area and the church.

Suddenly the place was full of little muggles and Mummy muggles coming out at the end of the school day, so not to give the game away I decided to take photos of the hillside view. All was going well but I kept getting strange looks from the passing families, was my clothes undone, did I have something stuck on my face where I had been searching in the bushes? Suddenly I realised the problem, a stranger in the village stood in the school playground brandishing a camera. What these Mums were actually reading were the words Danger Pervert tattooed across my forehead. The speed I put my camera away was impressive and I spent the next 15 minutes listening out for police sirens, just goes to show the camera ploy doesn't always work but I did get some beautiful shots across the valley, and I found the cache hidden behind the kissing gate before heading home to my village where at least I'm known.

The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner - Part 3

I know it's taken a long time for me to get down to part 3 of my "The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner", but to be honest even after a year I'm still suffering from the aftermath. I've spoken about the accident in Part 1 and in Part 2 I've explained how I exposing my rear end to the general public in Berkeley Hospital. There was nothing for the hospital to do with torn ligament and I had to go home and rest, but how was I to get home wearing nothing more than 2 hospital blankets and a plastic bag full of wet/muddy clothes and shoes.

I had been poked and prodded by all in sundry including the tea lady, Xrayed from top to bottom and after 6 hours I was told to go home, but how? Big Sister was up north caravaning so my next choice was Brother who only lived a few doors away from my home, oh dear no answer from any of his phones. My mobile by now was dead so I couldn't view any saved phone numbers, it was a case of going through the phone book looking for any relatives who might like the pleasure of pick me up.

Finally a nephew's name came in view and he was in, thank god, and soon he made his way to Berkeley to rescue me. On his arrival I was pushed out in a wheelchair and slid into the front seat, still desperately grasping my two blankets, I suppose if I wasn't so overweight I might have look like Gandhi.

Setting off for home the story of my accident was transferred to my Nephew and he reported that my Brother was out and hadn't turned his phone on. Suddenly he screeched to a halt on the main A38 next to where huge flames were dancing above the roadside hedge, now what I hadn't told you was that my Nephew was actually a fireman, and as he went headlong through the hedge I heard him shout, "There might be a house on fire, I'll just check it out?" A few minutes later he reappeared waving his hands around saying how stupid it was to have such a big bonfire in a back garden.

The rest of the journey went ok, no more fires, no cows stuck in a ditches or cats up trees, I do think he likes his job. Arriving home he circled my back courtyard to get the passenger door nearest the bungalow's back door but it was then that all hell broke out. He managed to help me to the back door but unfortunately there was a large step up into the bungalow, within seconds I was just a heap in the yard as my leg gave way and I laid there trying to cover my modesty in the darkness.

He would have needed Sparrows Crane Hire to pick me up so he had to run around a few neighbours for help. How embarrassing as the jungle phones in the village started up and within minutes up to 16 people arrived and deposited me in my armchair. Some were making tea and my home resembled a village hall as various neighbours chatted about how lucky I was. At last someone took pity on me and grabbed some clothes from my bedroom and help me dress, all with a very large audience looking on.

An hour later my Brother and his Wife arrived and the crowd started to disperse making sure they all gave me their wisdom, and in one case a loan of a 4 wheeled walker. Brother and Nephew went off to find my car still parked in an estate in Cam, don't think I will be driving that for a while. On there return they explained that it had been left unlocked, thanks to the ambulance man who went and got my handbag out of the boot, luckily the satnav and other valueables were still in the glove compartment.

The next few days were murder, most of my family visited me in turn, all nagging me about going out in the country on my own, comments like "Your a pensioner you know, take a another hobby." what do they expect me to do, join a knitting club or something - no chance as only 3 months later I was out and about again. Yes I have been left with a very nasty limp on the right leg and have to pick the areas I venture. One thing is certain, many barriers have been broken with my neighours, well they have seen me dressed in just a small hospital blanket.

How Many Men Does it Take to Repair a Stop Tap - Part 2.

Yesterday was just a comedy of comings and goings by the Water Board to repair a small stop tap outside in the entrance to the drive. We reached a total of 12 men 6 vehicles and endless long tea breaks, well that was until my dear Sister reminded me of the crew that came out days ago to find the leak. Even though the water was seeping from the stop tap and running down the road, the search was on for the problem.

One man produced a long stick which he put to his ear and walk around the area stopping only to rest it on the ground and listen intently, whilst this went on his mate carefully held on to a paint spray can. "Has your wife got any water running?" ask the senior man to my neighbour. Diving indoors to check he did confirmed that nothing was running. A few more circuits of the area listening through his stick and he pointed to the spot where the water was coming out of the stop tap and announced, "It's leaking from here". Now I'm no expert on water leaks but a blind man with a dry finger could have discovered that. His mate, with the spray can, marked the stop tap with a blue cross. (So that's increased the Water Board output now to 14 men and 7 vehicles.)

Back to yesterday and we were left with a large hole, back filled with soil and topped off with gravel, no tarmac yet and all  the barriers + signs were piled against my bungalow. I popped out to do some shopping when on my return discovered that they had returned and covered the hole in tarmac, my spies reported that it was 2 more men and of course another vehicle, oh and they hadn't taken all the barriers and road signs that was still in the drive against my building. (Are you still counting or have you run out of fingers, it's 16 different men with 8 different vehicles.)

Fortunately I was in my front garden during the afternoon, putting primroses in the pots, when another vehicle arrived, would you believe it there was only 1 man who's job it was to pick up the signs. I couldn't control myself anymore and told him what was happening to which he said, "Ridiculous isn't it, I have a laptop in my cab and if there were some roadwork signs etc on the other side of the road I'm not allowed to move them until a note appears on this laptop, knowing our workmanship I'll probably see you again in the next few months.

So there you go, the answers to my question, How many men does it take to repair a small stop tap?  It's 17 men from the Water Board using 9 different vehicles. Wonder if they could train 2 men to do the whole job in about a quarter of the time  !!!!!

Oh and look at the photo, it was the one on the right now replaced with what has turned out to be a very expensive round stop tap  and cover.

How Many Men Does it Take to Repair a Stop Tap - The Water Board.

We've all heard of the saying, "How many men does it take to change a light bulb". Well here's another one for you, "How many men does it take to repair a stop tap in the pavement." I'm going to tell you.

Firstly a little history of the 3 stop valves that lay in the pavement at the entrance to our drive.The Water Board decided to replace them with 3 new one's just inches away from the old ones, meaning we now had 6 stop taps in the drive entrance. In the past year all the new ones have sprung leaks meaning the Water Board has had to dig up the drive each time, repair it and lay square of new tarmac. Last week we had a big leak with water pouring through the tarmac and down the road to a drain.

Without warning this morning 2 men arrived to put traffic control lights and associated bollards out, well that was new, we hadn't needed traffic lights here before. The problem was they didn't let us know they were coming and they couldn't contact the young lady who had been working nights and parked her car just where they wanted to control the traffic. After a long period a neighbour managed to contact the young ladies mother, she then phoned her daughter on a mobile phone to get her out of bed to move her car. (Are you counting yet - 2 men for traffic lights etc.)

An hour after these men had gone another lorry turned up with 2 different men, who dug out a large crater, repaired the leak and then spent an hour sat in the cab having a cup of tea etc. (Did I mention it was a good job we didn't want to go out as the drive was blocked.) (Still counting that's 4 men so far).

They left and myself and my neighbour did the usual thing of leaning on the barriers looking down a hole. That wasn't fair I thought, my nighbour had a nice new round stop tap and I was left with a grotty old square one.

A few hours later another big lorry arrived with a crane jib, 2 more different men got out and filled the large whole with earth, thank god it's nearly over and we can get out. No they don't deal with the tarmac, so we watched them climb into the cab and have a break. (That's 6 so far and still counting).

They left and an hour or so later a small pickup arrived with 2 different men, great the tarmac has arrived I thought, no these men put small gravel and sand on top of the work, they don't touch tarmac so they infom us and the tarmac will be replaced tomorrow. "You can drive over it now, we've been in touch with the traffic team to come and move the cones and lights". (It's up to 8 men now and I'm beginning to forget what they all looked like, should have taken a photo!!)

Tea time arrived and there was yet another lorry with 2 men who proceeded to move all the traffic control lights, bollards and cones. (OK I know it's up to 10 men now and we still haven't got the tarmac back yet).

Tomorrow we should have another 2 chaps to lay the new tarmac, should I go and tell them that the men with the gravel and sand has covered over all the stop taps and not to cover them with their stuff. (That will make a total of 12 men from the Water Board - 6 different lorries, think of how much fuel that's taken, not forgetting the hourly tea breaks.

You can get a flock of birds, a herd of cows and a swarm of bees, what does it take to repair one small stop tap, and god knows how long it will last - "A FLOOD OF WATER BOARD MEN"

The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner - Part 2

Lets return to the point that I'm lying in a mud and water filled gully, unable to move and made that 999 call. I've already discovered that the lady on the other end of the phone thinks that an orchard in the countryside has a postcode and they are out looking for me. Please note that I had informed them that, to put it politely, I was not a petite lady.

Again my mobile phone rang and a gentleman on the other end indicated he was a paramedic and had finally found my car, he wanted to know which way to start walking to find me. Whilst screaming in pain I managed to direct him into the orchard to which he gave me a cheery wave as he came into view. After a few questions he decided he could get me to my feet, he did which lasted 5 seconds before I crumpled in a heap on the ground again. His reaction was to say, "I think we need backup", brilliant I thought, I told them over an hour ago I wasn't a ballerina or a vegetarian.

The emergency services then couldn't find an available ambulance and I could hear him on the phone say we had to do something. He decided to wander off to get me a blanket and by now I was covered in mud and water, shivering from cold and resembled a wallowing hippopotamus rather than a pensioner. Suddenly from behind the hedge an old lady appeared, looked at me and said, "Are you all right dear?", I replied "Yes thanks the paramedic's just gone to get me a blanket". Not a flicker from her as she wandered off as if this was normal, no concern at all.

At last they found a private ambulance traveling back to it's base in Avonmouth and they finally got me to Berkeley Cottage Hospital in about 2 hours. Must describe the two ambulance men as one was about 6ft 6ins whilst the other was about 5ft 3ins, talk about Little and Large, glad they didn't put me on a stretcher to get me back to the ambulance as I would have probably been dropped again.

Little and Large did the paperwork and disappeared before the nurse could tell them that I should have been taken to Gloucester Royal, so it was all down to a couple of nurses and a couple old tea orderlies to look after me. I was stripped of all my wet clothes and covered in just blankets but left on my own for hours, being a small cottage hospital I think the nurse was also looking after the ward as well as injuries.

Several hours later I was having more discomfort from not emptying my bladder and pleaded for some help, great, in comes the assistant tea lady pushing a toilet on wheels and stays chatting while I try to complete the task. Not a hope with the seat so small and the arm rests so close together it was like trying to get water out of a hose-pipe whilst someone squeezing the pipe together. Next move was to get me to a toilet down the corridor, A trio of helpers marched me past the general public, one holding a blanket on my top half, one holding a blanket around my bottom half and a nurse holding me up as I hopped along. During the return journey along the corridor I caught sight of myself in a mirror and noticed that the lower blanket didn't meet at the back. The general public got more than a builders bum, it was more like a geocacher's letterbox.

After several more hours, doctors pulling and prodding me and even more Xrays taken, they finally decided that nothing was broken, I didn't like to mention that my pride was well and truly broken.

Look out for Part 3 - trying to get home, stopping for a fire and being carried in by all the neighbourhood.

The Perils of a Geocaching Pensioner.

Before I start - What is Geocaching?

Well it's an outdoor activity in which the participants use a (GPS) receiver to hide and seek containers, called "geocaches" or "caches", anywhere in the world. A typical cache is a small waterproof container containing a logbook. Larger containers such as plastic storage containers (tupperware or similar) or ammo boxes can also contain items for trading, usually toys or trinkets of little value. Once you've found it you sign the log and come back and write a note on the computer of your experiences, in my case usually amusing.
**                    **                   **                 **                     **            

Well if your going to get active in retirement why not do it in a big way, Geocaching has brought me to several new places, Berkeley Hospital, Locking Hill Surgery and my Sisters first aid cabinet, to just mention a few.

I was introduced to Geocaching thanks to a chance word from my Niece, that looks interesting I thought  I just have to use my computer, purchase a hand held GPS and find some good walking boots, what on earth could go wrong. Didn't General Montgomery say that the first day he landed in North Africa to take on Field Marshal Erwin Rommel Afrika Korps.

Accident No. 1

Educated and armed with a proper GPS that I had programmed with the correct co-ordinance, I made for a location in a lane near J12 of the M5. Arriving my GPS directed me towards a field entrance with high hawthorn bushes either side, checking the clue it just said "under a rock". Searching everywhere around the bushes I notice that a ditch extended from a culvert and there was a rock in the bottom. Now for the clumsy bit, stepping into the ditch I found it was deeper than the length of my leg sending me upside down into a stinging nettle patch under a thorn bush. I laid there for a few seconds in a similar position to a dead fly on a window ledge with legs and arms in the air, each movement gave me more painful stings and I had to use the thorn bushes to pull myself out. Once back on Terra-fir-ma I came to two conclusions, first why would they hide a cache in the bottom of a ditch that could fill with water, secondly, with my arms swelling and scratched, why was I wearing a short sleeve shirt for this sport. Yes I found a film canister under a rock that I was stood on above the ditch so after signing the log I retreated to a nearby garden center car park to lick my wounds.

Accident No. 2

A few months in and my confidence showed no bounds as I set off for Uley Bury, a 2500 year old Iron Age Fort. Off I walked around the top rim until I was directed to an overgrown path down the steep side of the Bury. After a short search I found the Tupperware box hidden under logs by a tree on the steepest part of the slope, so after completing the log signing I turned to go back down the slope using a branch above me to steady my descent. I now realise that a small twig verses a large lady just doesn't work as with the sound of a loud snap I was sent face first down the slope doing an impression of Tom Daly diving off the top diving board at the Olympics. I wasn't certain whether I was alive or dead for some time and wondered if I would be found in such a remote area, fortunately I came round to my senses and after finding that all I had broken was a tree branch and my pride I made my way back to sanctuary of Harris my Yaris about a mile away.

Accident No. 3 - Major

There had been a few minor incidence such as leaping backwards over a stile to avoiding some very frisky horses near Oakridge and getting jammed in a kissing gate in Avening, but nothing came near to the moment I needed help in December 2009. I was bored at home and although it was very cold and drizzling I set off for a large orchard near Cam & Dursley. Within  50yds of my walk I had to turn down a slope when my left leg slipped forward and my right leg went backwards underneath me. I never knew that my heel could touch the back of my head, perhaps I should have taken up yoga, as I felt a terrific tearing sensation in my right thigh.

I landed in a small water and mud filled gully by a bush and knew I was in trouble needing the emergency services and maybe due to my weight "Sparrows Crane Hire". Fortunately I had charged my mobile and after the 999 call I was put through to the ambulance service where the fun started. Firstly they must have been in Outer Mongolia having never heard of the towns and village where I was, couldn't locate the road where I was parked and told me to stay by my phone and they would ring back, I wasn't actually thinking of going anywhere else at the time.They said that a paramedic was trying to find me, I had a brainwave and using my GPS I gave them the exact position where I was. The next comment was unbelievable, "Sorry we can't use that, do you know the postcode?", I.was in the middle of the countryside for gods sake.

It took 2 hours to locate me, find a spare ambulance and take me to Berkeley Hospital where, after the ambulance crew had left, decided I shouldn't have been taken there in the first place. To be fair to the staff they were brilliant and after 6 hours of tests and x-rays it was found that I had no broken bones but torn the ligaments in my right thigh.

The farce of the hospital and the journey home is another very funny story to be told later, needless to say that my family went berserk regarding pensioners and going out, but I haven't taken up card making or knitting yet. 10 months on and I have completed almost another 100 caches abet with a very wonky leg.

To be continued, be warned.

The Brain of a Pensioner, or is it the start of Dementia.

Well we have reach that age when we all stand in the middle of Tesco's thinking, what have I come in for? You then wander around buying lots of things but when you get home you have always forgotten the main item that you went out for.

You've been clever and remembered to make out your shopping list only for the brain to switch off again and you've left it on the table. This is also the reason why I have a large amount of coffee in the cupboard, I'm sure as I went round the supermarket that I've run out again, but know I haven't.

So how else does the brain play tricks on you as you get older, I think my best so far was cooking the Sunday evening meal, I had put the joint in the oven and set the timer. Settling down to watch TV for an hour an a half, whilst the joint was cooking, I was really looking forward to a good roast dinner and was so pleased when the oven timer went off. Grabbing the oven glove I was astonished to find my joint had vanished and was nowhere to be seen in the oven. A quick search of the kitchen reveled that I had actually put it in the microwave by mistake and it was still sitting there in it's raw state. I had to put it in the fridge for the next day and opened a tin of corned beef for a sandwich.

 Regardless of what I'm doing my brain switches to something completely different and causes me to make a mistake in my current chore. A good example is the morning shower, I've done it many times and have a routine set in stone, but along comes brain and before I've realised what's happening I've used the conditioner before the shampoo or washed my hair again in shower gel instead of my athletic body.

You've probable noticed that my spelling has gone out the window, thank heaven for the spell checker on the PC. It's not the difficult long words but the simple 3 or 4 letter words that have vanished into the corner of my brain and are snoozing away waiting to reappear when it feels like it. The problem is I've started using a little dictionary but my eye sight has also gone adrift and I'm having to use a magnifying glass just to read it.

Driving isn't a problem at all, well as long as the brain doesn't go into it's sleep mode again, I'll be driving along nice and happy then realise that this wasn't the road that I meant to be driving along anyway.

As for peoples names, not a hope these days so you start greeting friends you have known for years with, hi ????? how are you, whilst repeating the alphabet under your breath in the hope that it will jog your memory. It's hopeless if someone asks you to name a person, place or TV programme, it's gone from your memory, removed from that computer in your head never to be found again.

Any youngsters read this must be think what is she on about, just you wait - It's no longer a case of you using your brain, it's more likely the brain has started using you. !!!!

Sport Activities for us Old Pensioners - Right !!!

Having taken up geocaching about 3 years ago and losing 6 1/2 stone in the process, I decided to look closely at other sport activities that any of us old pensioners have attempted. Your'll suddenly realise why geocaching and hiking was the only choice that I could make.

As pensioners we have all taken notice of our doctors comments over the years and stayed really fit, having toned bodies and wonderful athletic appearance, "yeah right". We suddenly realised that we have nothing to do all day but move backwards and forwards to the fridge, just to keep our strength up, yet our bodies have sunk lower down whilst expanding outwards in all directions. So it time to put things right with some physical exercise, so lets take a look at what fellow pensioners are doing and what's on offer to make us oldies ready for the next Olympics Games in 2016.

Power Walking seems to be one that I've observed recently. There was a rather tall grey haired old gentleman with a distinctive stoop spotted walking briskly through the village, wearing shorts, vest and a head sweat-band. He pumped his arms vigorously moving them backwards and forwards and he tried to move his legs quickly, unfortunately for all his efforts he was passed by a young lady pushing a pram who walking normally down to the village primary school.



Aerobics for the Elderly seems to have taken hold in various community rooms and town halls. None of this jumping up and down on steps, or groups dancing around in formation to lively music. It seems that these aerobics involve sitting in chairs waving your arms around like demented windmills, would you believe it some even wear leotards and that's not a pretty sight with all that sagging flesh, I just can't visualise me in a pink leotard, OK you can all stop laughing now!


There are some sports that the elderly do seem to excel in for some reason or the other, perhaps this is what I need.

Lawn Bowls for an example, the gentle art of rolling a ball up and down a lawn that you would think has been cut by a groundsman using nail scissors. First they throw a small white ball away and then take it in turns to get other balls close to it. You can't even throw it straight as someone has cunningly put weights on one side to confuse you as it bends away from where you intended. It's taken so seriously that if the correct clothes aren't worn at all times, your not allowed to play and are removed from the greens.

Golf, I ask you, what's that all about then? You seem to have to thump a little white ball around for miles after miles, only for it to be lost down small holes. I wouldn't mind but all the holes are marked with flags so could easily be avoided. Then, once you had all that frustrating exercise you find yourself back were you started from and have to retreat to the club bar for an unhealthy alcohol drink, putting all those lost calories back on again - pointless.

Rambling or Geocaching for pensioners, now your talking and a great sport that I have decided is for me. Not only does it give exercise for those with aching joints and pot bellies, but also keeps the emergency services busy rescuing  us pensioners from places we shouldn't have gone to in the first place. How often do you see groups of pensioners set off in shorts, rucksacks and stupid hats that would embarrass their own children if seen worn around the house.

So there you have it, all in all pensioners doing sport have some really good benefits, well it keeps our hospitals full and district nurses and doctors in full employment. Perhaps we should all know are limitations and stick to shove-penny in the local pub, knitting circles or really going for it by just watching sport on the television, although that exhausts me at times.

There is one thing for certain I wouldn't go out in a stupid hat on my own, risking accidents, or my family would disown me, HONEST.

The Art of becoming a Pensioner - Driving

I know I don't have to give you pensioners any advice on driving, we all know that you have been doing it for 40 or 50 years, so experienced, and in fact some of you didn't have to take a test at all because there wasn't one in those early days. Some of you even drove tanks in the war so why should you need more lessons on driving a car. Just remember, if you hear anyone sounding their horns at you, or giving a nice little gesture with their hands or fingers it's just them showing how much they appreciate your wonderful driving skills.

There are just a few rules that, as a pensioner, you must apply to your driving, just to let everyone else know you had all those many years driving from A to B. OK you might have gone the long way through Z, but it's not your fault that the 1956 AA map was slightly out of date, plus reading it with a magnifying glass whilst navigating a roundabout is quite difficult.

You must maintain a steady 20 miles an hour at all times and your soon get a good following of fans desperate to see how it's done. Just glance in your mirror and you will see how friendly they all are as they wave to you. The only time you can increase this speed is when tackling one of those new motorways, slowly increase to 40 miles an hour and stay in the center lane as there will be plenty of space all around you there. Again everyone will want to wave to you, so let them go by but give them one of those new 2 fingered gestures that you have learnt from the kids, they will love it.

Driving can be very tiring at your age, especially motorways, so if you need a snooze or a picnic the hard shoulder is just the place, that's the one on your far left, it's never used  and only the odd policeman may want to join you for a quick chat.

If you really want to meet other people whilst driving in towns and cities, continue to do that trick of going the wrong way down one way streets. Yes I know it's a new idea to you and very annoying that others don't want to go in the same direction as you, at least other drivers will get out and give you a greeting you will always remember. Please don't try this tactic at night as it might dent your 1952 Morris Minor Countryman Estate you've had from new.

Another good way to meet your fellow motorists is when using supermarket car parks, just park with your car just a few inches from the next drivers door. There will be plenty of space for you to get out on your side and if you take your time shopping there should be someone waiting to pass the time of day with you.

Whatever you do behind the wheel always remember you are the one with all that experience and other drivers should just get out of the way because they don't know what they are doing.

The Art of becoming a Pensioner - A Cheap Christmas

Well it's almost here again and us pensioners will be suffering all the stresses that this time can hold, so how can we reduce the worry and costs and get through that Christmas period unscathed.

Stage 1. This should be where your going to spend the day, it's quite easy really, choose a relatives that have the least children and when they say, "Well Granny what are you doing for Christmas this year". Just look down towards the ground and mutter softly, "I don't think I will bother much on my own, perhaps I might get myself a pork chop for dinner". Bingo your in, as they should be taking pity and invite you round to spend the day with them.

Stage 2. Now presents shouldn't be a problem, remember that pack of 7 pairs of socks you got for £3 from Matalan, well thats 7 years of Christmas's taken care of for your Son/Son-in-Law. The bottle of lavender smelly you got at the charity shop for 50p will do nicely for your Daughter/Daughter-in-Law and don't forget an old jigsaw puzzle marked suitable for up to 5 year olds will do for any youngster in the family over 9 years old.

If you buy a book from a charity shop that has a writing inside such as, from Ethel, just mark it again so it reads, Merry Christmas from Grandma and Auntie Ethel, the kids won't know there isn't an Auntie Ethel, will they. Wrapping the presents shouldn't be to expensive as we all remembered to collect last years paper off your gifts and put them away after making sure it's ironing and folded carefully.

Stage 3. On the day arrive just before Christmas dinner, you don't want all that fuss with the kids that goes on in the morning. Eat as much as you can leaving just the sprouts on your plate, at the right moment say, "I just can't eat any more, could you save it for me in a bag to take home for another day, I do like a bit of cold turkey", of course there isn't any meat on your plate, but they should make up a good dogie bag for you to take home.

Stage 4. The boring afternoon should be endured as it's worth the time and effort, finish any tipple you have quickly so that when they offer you another glass you must say, "Oh no I mustn't I will get all tipsy, won't I children", making sure you thrust the glass out in-front of you to be filled again. If the little kids get annoying, just close your eye's for a moment, they will be told to be quiet as Granny is sleeping, watch television out of other eye that they can't see.

Stage 5. Grasp the earliest moment when they ask if you want taking home, making sure you have a very large dogie bag of food, asking politely if they have given you any Christmas cake and minced tarts.

There you go a super Christmas and plenty of food for Boxing Day, remember to iron that wrapping paper for next year.

The Art of becoming a Pensioner - The Beginning

We all remember our children's first day at school, the tears in our eye's as they are pulled away whilst still holding onto our legs and watching as they are dragged away across the playground in tears. We all remember their first day at senior school, smart uniforms and ties, they never look that smart ever again. Then there was their first day going to work and that carefully prepared plastic box full of goodies we gave them for their lunch. You didn't realise how you would spend the next few years shouting at them though their bad hangovers, just to get them to go to work.

You see them get married and your bank balance dwindles in one foul swoop, the grandchildren come along and you are now a full time nursery as they still go out and enjoy themselves. Well blow them all, you've reached that age and you're now classed as a PENSIONER and it's their turn for the tears as you start doing things that will embarrass them all.

There are no lessons in being a pensioner, no school to teach you all those annoying things that pensioners do, it's just like creatures in the wild that watch their elders and copy every movement. Firstly the stance, try and stoop a little and shuffle your feet along making sure that you go in a straight line regardless of anyone in front of you. Today some pensioners are issued with special buggies called scooters which are perfect for knocking over any unexpecting bystander.

To dress as a pensioner is quite skillful, youngster may think you have not planned the outfit but whatever you do DON'T match anything at all. If in difficulty go for the standard tea cosy on the head, knitted cardigan of multi colours and scruffy skirt, making sure your petticoat hangs below the hem. The smelling of moth balls is compulsory but the wearing of the long elasticated pink knickers has been abolished due to the time it takes to remove them when visiting the toilet. Your a pensioner, so remember to remove all the toilet rolls and soap when out and about, this is to keep your own homes stocked up.

An example of how to wind people up without trying, when going through the checkout at supermarkets make sure you take as much time as possible in putting your shopping in the bag. Take some out now and then to rearrange them and importantly take at least 5 minutes rummaging in your purse for that 2p piece that you keep saying to the checkout girl, "I know it's in here somewhere". By now you should just about hear the tutting coming from the queue that has formed behind you, so finally as you go to move on, turn to the girl and tell her all about the scones you are going to make when you get home. Hopefully some may have changed to another checkout whilst others will have started making comments and pointing.

Now I know that there is a lot to take in, and by now you would have forgotten what you were told at the start, so another lesson is sure to come along soon.

Happy grumbling.

I've found that Holloween can make me much Fatter

Well it's that time of year again when little children will dress up in their scariest outfits and try their best to get something out of us poor pensioner. Surprisingly some children don't need to dress up at all, being horrible little monsters already.

In the old days the costumes were carefully made by our parents out of old cardboard boxes, toilet roll tubes, bits of string and anything else they could get hold of. Surely that's why we all suffered hours of John Noakes and Val Singleton on Blue Peter, "Have you got your Blue Peter Badgeeeeeeee", we all pronounce in a Yorkshire accent.

Today it's into the shops where they spend vast amounts of money on plastic masks, plastic capes and toy instruments of torture. What ever happened to using the inside of a Cornflake packet to cut out and crayon a mask. Is there an equivalent to Bah Humbug for Halloween that I can use, perhaps Bah No Humbugs.

When you reach a certain age we try and think of ways of avoiding that "Trick or Treat" stuff imported from those weird people across the Atlantic, Yanks have got a lot to answer for. The many years I've sat in the dark in my own home with the television turned down pretending nobody was home, that failed the time I shouted out "She's out, go away". I found that a full water pistol fired through the letterbox from within works well.

OK, I started to feel sorry for the little bratts going home soaking wet and have thrown myself into all that is required. Days before I went out and purchased 24 bags of sweets and tipped them into a large bowl and sat in the porch as it began to get dark. My pointed hat, black cloak and green face would scare the life out of them I thought. Unfortunately by midnight nobody had turned up, half the sweets had been consumed and the green dye on my face wouldn't come off. The next day the balance of the sweets had all gone and I wasn't sure whether the face had stayed green through all those calories I had eaten or just feeling as sick as a parrot.

The Pleasures of the Motorway Services Station, (Part 2)

After the earlier experience with the visit to the toilet, we made our way to the cafe as one does, my partner now sporting an obvious limp caused by his previous comment and the quick kick in the shin. A large brightly lit area confronted us but their seemed to be a lack of customers, that should have sparked warnings.

Grabbing a plastic tray we note with interest that you can have 2 meals for just £10.00 with a choice of : All Day Breakfast, Cottage Pie, Fish & Chips or Curry. We ordered the All Day Breakfasts and was shocked to hear from the old lady on the other side of the counter, "We don't do all day breakfast after eleven". OK we will have cottage pie then, the reply came again, "We're all out of Cottage Pie".

The curry look like the leftovers from the previous day that had been boiled up with some watery flavouring, so it was to be Fish & Chips. The old lady grabbed a plate and disappeared before returning with another unbelievable comment, "Would you mind having roast potatoes with your fish as we need to cook more chips and the shift is just changing".

We decided to give up on the meal and just ordered a couple of cheese toasties which involved the old lady removing 2 packaged sandwiches from the display and disappearing again. To be fair, she did come back and said that they would be brought to our table. Sliding the tray along to the drinks section we waited, suddenly the same small grey haired old lady appeared from behind the coffee machine, "Can I help you", she asked, then preceded to make our coffees that we ordered.

I slowly slid the tray along again only to notice the same old lady follow my every movement, like you would see in a mirror, yes I did stop and reverse a few steps just to see if she would follow, but she didn't want to play. You've got it, the same old lady was on the till and I did think I should help her up on the stole as we had become old friends by now. After several attempts at pressing the right buttons the machine burst into life as she proclaimed, "That will be £4.75 please". Now I'm no mathematician, but I noticed that the sandwiches were marked at £3.20 each so after paying I grabbed my partners coat and quickly pulled him away followed by the lady announcing, "Thank you your toasties won't be long".

After 20 long minutes I had worked out that perhaps she had got the All Day Breakfast wrong and the company instructions must have meant 11pm and not 11am. I had watched a rather fat lorry driver outside, climb on top of the cab to rotate an ariel for a TV he was watching in his break. Well I say watched the driver, in fact it was the lack of cover his trousers were giving and he kept displaying his backside, wasn't sure I wanted my toastie after that.

Your coffee's completely cold or had been consumed by the time the old lady appears with your food, "Enjoy", she smiled and proceeded to collect just a few scattered dirty dishes as she returned to the sanctuary of the counter. The congealed cheese was spread sparingly inside the first few centimeters of the curled opening and really didn't look very inviting, so it was time to make our leave.

Unfortunately, they put the trap of the shop right next to the exit and you always have to go to see what goodies are inside. The fluffy toy dog, the multitude of humourous mugs and chocolate bars so overpriced that you have to be desperate to purchase them. I noted that a box of Kleenex man sized tissues were priced at £7.60 and now realised the reason why there are no toilet rolls in the cubicles earlier. Never again is mentioned back at the car, well until the next time.