This all happened a few years ago, when I was wintering up in the Glen of the Downs, in County Wicklow. Spring was coming and the weather was getting warmer, when I had a visit from two old friends. They stopped for the week and we had some great criac, and then the time came for them to leave and head back home to England.
Now, these two guys knew me well and they knew that I was a bit of a messer and not to be trusted. I have always been fond of the odd practical joke, and they were ever wary.
Just before they left, they decided to go on one last walk of the wonderful countryside around them. It was a glorious spring day with the scent of gorse flowers wafting on the cool breeze as they set off.
Seeing my change to play a trick, I watched them set off and then leapt into action. Grabbing their rucksacks, I quickly untied the sleeping backs from the bottom of each of them, and unrolled them. Selecting some good heavy stones from the dry-stone wall nearby, I rolled these into the centre of each bag and quickly replaced the sleeping backs to their original positions.
I sat back to wait, and then it hit me. They would be expecting just such a cunning ploy. I would have to throw them off the scent.
Quickly, I grabbed more rocks and stuffed them into both of their rucksacks. I even had time to make a sign up from an old cornflakes box and stuff this in too. It read something like, “A got ya suckers!” or something equally silly. This I stuffed into Mark’s bag.
By this time, I could hear them chatting as they climbed the hill to my barrel top wagon. Grabbing a book, I jumped onto the bed and tried to look as relaxed as possible.
When they appeared, they both looked warily around, and quickly started to check their rucksacks for contraband. They soon found the rocks that I had stuffed into their clothing, and the cardboard sign. They laughed, happy to have caught me out and foiled my cunning machinations. However, they had not searched the sleeping backs, securely fastened to the bottom of each rucksack.
I played along, looking suitably caught out and crestfallen that my plan had failed, and soon waved them off on their journey home. It was hard keeping a straight face, but I pulled it off until they had disappeared from sight. Neither of them had noticed that their baggage was a good ten pounds heavier with limestone rocks.
Smiling for the rest of the day, I thought no more about it until I got a letter a few weeks later from Craig, the other friend.
He cursed me soundly for the trick, but had also appreciated the laugh and thanked me for the holiday.
He then went on to explain what had happened. They had got through customs just fine, and no one had discovered the rocks. On the ferry over, they had met a couple of nice women and got chatting. The evening had gone along nicely, and they had been offered a lift as far as Manchester with the girls, and even been offered a place to kip overnight.
Craig went on to explain how Mark was thinking that they may be in for a hot night of passion. He had been playing it cool all evening. Finally, the time came for them to get ready for bed and they grabbed their sleeping backs and started to roll them out on the living room floor. It was at this point that a pile of Irish rubble rolled onto the carpet and all pretense of coolness abandoned them. They couldn’t believe it. I’d fouled them both…
I nearly wet myself reading the letter.
