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Isle of Wight Trip

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A weekend of the Isle of Wight seemed a peaceful idea. As I look at my sand-filled trainers, my bruised and battered leg, and my dust-covered car, I can safely say that I’m utterly worn out. Michelle and I trundled off on Friday night, and after a 1/2 hour drive (I swear we were driving round in circles – the island isn’t THAT big, surely…) we arrived at the beginning of a small farm track. Another 20 minutes after that (yes, it was plainly the world’s longest farm track) we found the cottage, in the middle of nowhere…
A visit to an animal sanctuary (where Michelle’s mum cracked some frankly appalling Toucan jokes), a visit to the beach (where my grand masterpiece of a sand-sculpted World Trade Center was roundly poo-pooed) and a visit to the Isle of Wight’s brave attempt at Alton Towers all came thick and fast in the next 36 hours and finally, bruised and battered, Michelle and I spooned ourselves into the car for the long trip back home.

Alton Towers trip…

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Well, Alton Towers was a blast. Friday night we arrived at the hotel, after 5 hours of cracking traffic. Truly, I loved it. Saturday, though, made up for everything. Alton Towers beckoned, and at 8.30am, as we arrived, we noticed a suitably small note on the tickets: “Valid from 9.30am only.”. Marvellous…
9.30am. We raced in, and ran for Air, the new ride. The first inkling that something was due to loosen my bowels came when the floor at the start of the ride gave way, and the seats went forward, rendering us almost horizontal, superman style. Christ. After twists and turns that would confuse even the most twist-and-turny people, half way through the ride I noticed I was lying flat on my back, hurtling backwards through a particularly sadistic section of the rollercoaster, barely able to breathe. If that sounds awful, I assure you it wasn’t. By the end of the ride, all was forgiven and I immediately wanted to turn round and do it again…
The rest of the day was spent going on the most adventurous rides (Nemesis, Oblivion – which, quite frankly, scares me – to name a few), and of course watching England’s practically orgasmic 3-0 win over Denmark, with the most impressive Posh and Becks lookalikes ever, by a large screen in the grounds. The lookalikes kept everybody entertained by kicking any balls that came their way and, regardless of the poor quality of the kicks, the cheers went up every time the golden foot touched the ball. Marvellous. And it happened to be filmed for the BBC’s coverage of the event. I was in a whole 2 frames of the broadcast.
Fame at last. No, really. Honest.

Holiday Report 26/1

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9am – DOLPHIN DAY. Breakfast gulped down, with Becki grinning like a Cheshire cat and the thought of caressing and kissing a wet mammal. Each to their own…
10.30am – We set off far too early, and arrive with ages to spare. Trick parrots entertain us for a while, and then an enormous black bee shocks the living daylights out of me. I would have taken a picture if I wasn’t cowering behind a large bush.
12pm – Becki gets carted off in an army truck, and we wonder if we’ll next see her fighting in Afghanistan. Sadly, we all eventually turn up at the Dolphinarium, and Becki appears again, still grinning.
1.30pm – After an hour of frolicking, I?m a jealous turncoat. Dolphins are so intelligent and gentle, and it was amazing to watch. And yes, Becki got a wet kiss from two of them… The video of her fun is bought, and we return.
2pm – Alton Towers has nothing compared to a mexican taxi. The return journey leaves me breathless, and I recover for the next 6 hours.
8.30pm – The meal turns into a funfest, with a mexican and his singing band accosting everyone at the table. After he declares his undying love for Becki, we leave sharpish, only for me to have a donkey shoved in my arms for a cracking picture. SPLENDID.
10pm – We round off the night with theatre, which is far more entertaining than it sounds.
Drinks Knocked Over = 2