Benfleet A1
Hector Of The House🦐
Saturday (Early)
The alarm went off bang on 5 and hit the wall at 1 second past, my reflexes are still pretty quick even at this god awful hour. Get up and stand on clock. Scream and kick clock. Scream louder as I remember I have nothing on my feet. Clock looks all smug as I limp to the bathroom.
Start having a pee. Stop pee and lift toilet lid, continue pee. Get dressed and check to see if the missus has got the kiddie up. Kiddie up dressed and far to chipper this early in the day. Kiddie told to sit down and be quite. Kiddie takes not a blind bit of notice.
Grab the last bits for the car and head outside to chuck them in. Meet cat on doorstep. Hoof cat out of the way. Say sorry to cat as missus saw me hoof him. Sling stuff in car, sling kiddie in car, sling wife in car, give the cat another swift kick as wife can't see this time. Get in car aaaaaannnnnnddd.......were're off!!!
Up the A13, over the bridge and away we go, hot footing it to sunny Devon. Hit the A303 in 90 minutes flat and making great time. Kiddie wants a wee. Stop in lay-by, get the urge myself. Lose balance and fall @rse over head down bank tackle out. Tell wife it isn't funny as she nearly pi$$es herself laughing. Kiddie starts laughing as well, tell daughter she's adopted.
Carry on in silence until we hit the cafe I know in Wiltshire. Eat hearterly and explain to missus that a four year old doesn't understand what adopted means. Pay bill and consider burning place down as the price seemed a little high but a contented belly saved the day. Back on the road. Kiddie asks daddy if Mr Snake (her plastic snake before you all start :) ) could help with the driving. Daddy replied that Mr Snake can't help with the driving and perhaps he would like to live in Somerset, cause if she keeps dangling the s0dding thing in my face then he would be setting up home just outside of Crewkerne.
We hit Devon and come off at signs for Barnstable. and it goes on and on and on..........even the sat nav is getting bored with it now. See signs for Woolacombe, 12 miles!! Super. Another ****ing hour down the narrowest 'A' road in the British Isles and sat nav announces we are here. Wrong!! We are at the wrong camp. Get sent further down the road to another wrong camp and finally put in the right direction to the right camp. Arrive at camp. Need beer so grab key to caravan, dump gear and head to camping area where the rest of the gang are. Rest of gang already been there since Wednesday and look like they have been on it all the time. Cider kegs of the empty variety are hanging from the windbreaks as are both the brother-in-law and his brother BUT!! when in Rome.
I hate cider so it's a trip to the shop for bitter and lots of it. We drink, we toast, we talk b0llocks, we don't notice the wind picking up and we don't care. Back to the caravan and pass out about 11. To bed.
Sunday.
Dear Diary, **** off, my head hurts. Did nothing apart from eat at a pub and watch the football. Laughed when Leeds got beat. Ducked out when the 5 Leeds fans stood up and went to the bar, christ they were big.
Had an early night.
Monday.
Awoken by the wind at 4 and the rain at 5, we were in for stormy weather. Got a call from the chaps that we were heading into Bideford for supplies and a new jacket for the Brother-in -Law as his last one was pi$$ wet through. We head of west and arrive in a howling gale and heavy rain. We get under cover and the phone rings informing us that Greg, my best mate who had remained at the site sleeping off an hangover (sun stroke, yeah right) who told us that the tents were taking off and our assistance was required. The tent dwellers headed on back while us caravan stayers (me) had a look round the shops.
After coffee and a rather nice prawn salad sandwich, I called my sister and got the worst. The campsite was like Bosnia on a bad day. It was the call for GHG to the rescue. We drove back as quick as the traffic would allow. I got flashed at one point but no matter, I have lived in Devon before and some of the locals are like that.
She wasn't lying, the site was a mess. The remains of tents were everywhere. The place was thousands of pounds of broken camping equipment. Tents ripped to shreads, bedding soaked through, food ruined it was a mess. Saved what we could, swore at the Gods, packed everyone up and sent them on their way home. Attended shop for more beer and stayed in as weather was poo.
Tuesday.
Wind and rain gave it a rest by about 5am so we could get some sleep. Took daughter to Wildlife Park with stupidly steep entrance. Smoke from bonnet area meant clutch was burning out so stopped to check it out. Monkey behind decides to lean on horn. Monkey told straight that I will disconnect his horn with his face if he doesn't deceased from leaning on it. Monkey threatens to call police. Monkey now needs new mobile phone. The sea lion show was good.
Wednesday.
Threw it down with rain all day. Nothing to report other than shop run out of bitter. Drank lager instead.
Thursday.
Took daughter to a place called The Big Sheep. Very good attraction and enjoyed it loads. The Aussie who did the shearing and other bits was worth the entrance fee on his own. Great fun and well worth the money. I upset know one.
Friday.
Brightest day of the week. Went to Lynton, a lovely village in North Devon which provided beautiful views of the sea and landscape. Line of the day came from the wife when the daugther asked why there was only one policeman ( who asked if we were enjoying our holiday) The wifes reply was 'It's not Basildon'
Tickled me.
Saturday (today)
We come home. The weather was wonderful as we drove through Devon and Somerset on the M5 and isn't that just typical? Arrived home, checked post (all bills) Went to Tesco's for beer.
Nice break, ****e weather, roll on next year.
The alarm went off bang on 5 and hit the wall at 1 second past, my reflexes are still pretty quick even at this god awful hour. Get up and stand on clock. Scream and kick clock. Scream louder as I remember I have nothing on my feet. Clock looks all smug as I limp to the bathroom.
Start having a pee. Stop pee and lift toilet lid, continue pee. Get dressed and check to see if the missus has got the kiddie up. Kiddie up dressed and far to chipper this early in the day. Kiddie told to sit down and be quite. Kiddie takes not a blind bit of notice.
Grab the last bits for the car and head outside to chuck them in. Meet cat on doorstep. Hoof cat out of the way. Say sorry to cat as missus saw me hoof him. Sling stuff in car, sling kiddie in car, sling wife in car, give the cat another swift kick as wife can't see this time. Get in car aaaaaannnnnnddd.......were're off!!!
Up the A13, over the bridge and away we go, hot footing it to sunny Devon. Hit the A303 in 90 minutes flat and making great time. Kiddie wants a wee. Stop in lay-by, get the urge myself. Lose balance and fall @rse over head down bank tackle out. Tell wife it isn't funny as she nearly pi$$es herself laughing. Kiddie starts laughing as well, tell daughter she's adopted.
Carry on in silence until we hit the cafe I know in Wiltshire. Eat hearterly and explain to missus that a four year old doesn't understand what adopted means. Pay bill and consider burning place down as the price seemed a little high but a contented belly saved the day. Back on the road. Kiddie asks daddy if Mr Snake (her plastic snake before you all start :) ) could help with the driving. Daddy replied that Mr Snake can't help with the driving and perhaps he would like to live in Somerset, cause if she keeps dangling the s0dding thing in my face then he would be setting up home just outside of Crewkerne.
We hit Devon and come off at signs for Barnstable. and it goes on and on and on..........even the sat nav is getting bored with it now. See signs for Woolacombe, 12 miles!! Super. Another ****ing hour down the narrowest 'A' road in the British Isles and sat nav announces we are here. Wrong!! We are at the wrong camp. Get sent further down the road to another wrong camp and finally put in the right direction to the right camp. Arrive at camp. Need beer so grab key to caravan, dump gear and head to camping area where the rest of the gang are. Rest of gang already been there since Wednesday and look like they have been on it all the time. Cider kegs of the empty variety are hanging from the windbreaks as are both the brother-in-law and his brother BUT!! when in Rome.
I hate cider so it's a trip to the shop for bitter and lots of it. We drink, we toast, we talk b0llocks, we don't notice the wind picking up and we don't care. Back to the caravan and pass out about 11. To bed.
Sunday.
Dear Diary, **** off, my head hurts. Did nothing apart from eat at a pub and watch the football. Laughed when Leeds got beat. Ducked out when the 5 Leeds fans stood up and went to the bar, christ they were big.
Had an early night.
Monday.
Awoken by the wind at 4 and the rain at 5, we were in for stormy weather. Got a call from the chaps that we were heading into Bideford for supplies and a new jacket for the Brother-in -Law as his last one was pi$$ wet through. We head of west and arrive in a howling gale and heavy rain. We get under cover and the phone rings informing us that Greg, my best mate who had remained at the site sleeping off an hangover (sun stroke, yeah right) who told us that the tents were taking off and our assistance was required. The tent dwellers headed on back while us caravan stayers (me) had a look round the shops.
After coffee and a rather nice prawn salad sandwich, I called my sister and got the worst. The campsite was like Bosnia on a bad day. It was the call for GHG to the rescue. We drove back as quick as the traffic would allow. I got flashed at one point but no matter, I have lived in Devon before and some of the locals are like that.
She wasn't lying, the site was a mess. The remains of tents were everywhere. The place was thousands of pounds of broken camping equipment. Tents ripped to shreads, bedding soaked through, food ruined it was a mess. Saved what we could, swore at the Gods, packed everyone up and sent them on their way home. Attended shop for more beer and stayed in as weather was poo.
Tuesday.
Wind and rain gave it a rest by about 5am so we could get some sleep. Took daughter to Wildlife Park with stupidly steep entrance. Smoke from bonnet area meant clutch was burning out so stopped to check it out. Monkey behind decides to lean on horn. Monkey told straight that I will disconnect his horn with his face if he doesn't deceased from leaning on it. Monkey threatens to call police. Monkey now needs new mobile phone. The sea lion show was good.
Wednesday.
Threw it down with rain all day. Nothing to report other than shop run out of bitter. Drank lager instead.
Thursday.
Took daughter to a place called The Big Sheep. Very good attraction and enjoyed it loads. The Aussie who did the shearing and other bits was worth the entrance fee on his own. Great fun and well worth the money. I upset know one.
Friday.
Brightest day of the week. Went to Lynton, a lovely village in North Devon which provided beautiful views of the sea and landscape. Line of the day came from the wife when the daugther asked why there was only one policeman ( who asked if we were enjoying our holiday) The wifes reply was 'It's not Basildon'
Tickled me.
Saturday (today)
We come home. The weather was wonderful as we drove through Devon and Somerset on the M5 and isn't that just typical? Arrived home, checked post (all bills) Went to Tesco's for beer.
Nice break, ****e weather, roll on next year.
